CONSTANTINE 

BY 

GEORGE  HORTON 


CHICAGO 
MDCCCXCVII- 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

FROM  THE  PAPERS  OF 
Frederick    J.    Mosher 


CONSTANTINE 


CONSTANTINE 

S  Cale  of  (Greece  unfcer 
King  <©tfjo 


BY 

GEORGE  HORTON 

AUTHOR  OF  "SONGS  OF  THE  LOWLY";  "IN  UNKNOWN 
SEAS";  "APHROKSSA"' 


CHICAGO 
WAY  AND  WILLIAMS 

1897 


DEDICATED 

TO 

MRS.  JAMES  W.  SCOTT 


NOTES. 

Page  21.  "  Three  terrible  Old  Women."  The 
Three  Fates,  universally  believed  in  by  the  com- 
mon people  of  Greece. 

Page  22.  "  Koumbare."  Vocative  case  of 
Koumbaros,  the  " Best  Man''  at  a  wedding  or  at 
the  baptism  of  an  infant ;  a  relationship  considered 
more  sacred  in  Greece  than  that  of  blood. 

Page  23.  "  Wrestling  with  Charon."  Strug- 
gling with  death.  In  the  death  agony. 

Page  24.  "  How  bitter  a  thing  is  death?  etc. 
Translated  from  popular  Greek  song. 

Page  25.  " Barbandone"  Uncle  Anthony. 
Anthony  would  not  have  been  called  "  Barba  "  //// 
he  was  over  forty  years  of  age.  To  save  confusion 
in  the  minds  of  the  English  reader,  I  have  called 
him  Barbandone  all  through. 

Page  29.  "  Church  of  the  Wilderness"  Little 
churches  are  built  in  lonely  places  in  Greece  and 
called  "  Churches  of  the  Wilderness. " 

Page 32.  This  Moerologian,  or  Death  Song,  is 
one  that  I  actually  heard.  I  have  translated  it  as 
best  I  could. 

Pages  41,  42.  "  Yaourti"  Klabberedgoafs  or 
sheep '*  milk.  " Halva"  and  "  Loukoumi"  sweet- 
meats. 

vii 


viii  Notes. 

Page  43.     "  Kuria"    Mrs. 

Page  jo.     "  Nounos- ' '     Godfather. 

Page  51-     "  Palikari."     Hero. 

Page  5  4.     "  Papas  r     Priest. 

Page  56.  Vampires  are  much  dreaded  by  tht 
common  people  of  Greece.  Priests  frequently  per- 
form ceremonies  for  the  "laying  of  Vampires" 
Then  the  flssh  instantly  decomposes,  and  the  rustic 
listening  at  the  grave  hear  the  bones  rattle  together 
in  the  bottom  of  the  coffin. 

Page 59.     "  Zetos."     "  Long  Live" 

Page  59.  Match-making  is  a  recognized  pro- 
fession in  Greece. 

Page  74.  Greek  cisterns  are  built  with  a  smaller 
reservoir  at  the  bottom  for  receiving  the  deposit. 

Page  84.     "  Anezaki"    Little  Aneza. 

Page  go.    "  Eat  Wood"  Get  a  whipping. 

Page  92.     " Palikaraki"    Little palikari. 

Page  g6.    "  Kurios."     Mr. 

Page  QJ.  "  Panageia"  All  holy  one  ;  the  Vir- 
gin. 

Page  118.  These  two  stories,  and  many  others, 
are  told  of  "  Our  Lady  of  Miracles"  of  Tenos. 

Page  IIQ.  This  story  is  related  of  an  Athenian 
student  in  one  of  the  American  colleges. 

Page  194.    "  Proeka."    Dot;  dowry. 

Page  194.     "  Parades"    Money. 


Constantine 


Chapter  I 

THE  little  town  of  Poros  sits  by  a  lake  of 
the  sea,  which  is  bounded  by  the  curving 
shores  of  the  Peloponnesus  on  one  side  and 
the  ancient  isle  of  Calabria  on  the  other. 

To  reach  Poros  from  Athens,  you  rise  at 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  hurry 
through  the  cool  twilight  streets  to  catch  the 
first  train  for  the  Piraeus. 

Early  as  it  is,  Greek  life  is  already  astir. 
Swarthy  servant-girls  are  sweeping  dust  from 
the  sidewalks  with  short  brooms,  and  the 
saleppi  men  have  been  on  the  corners  for  an 
hour  or  more.  These  latter  preside  over 
great  samovars  filled  with  a  sweetish  liquid, 
which  they  sell,  smoking  hot,  at  a  halfpenny 
the  cup. 

"  C-r-r-r ! "     That  purring  sound  is  a  fruit 


2  Constantine 

or  vegetable  seller  telling  his  donkey  to  stop. 
He  has  seen  the  head  of  a  possible  purchaser 
in  an  upper  window.  "M-h-h-h!"  The  lit- 
tle animal  starts  as  though  roused  from  slum- 
ber and  proceeds  on  his  way. 

Do  not  flatter  yourself  that  you  are  enti- 
tled to  any  credit  for  having  arisen  at  four. 

Numerous  market-boys  toiling  through  the 
streets  with  well-filled  baskets  strapped  to 
their  backs  prove  that  the  Greek  gentlemen 
are  already  at  the  market,  and  are  sending 
home  their  purchases. 

You  reach  the  Station  ere  day  has  dawned, 
and  stand  for  a  moment  on  the  platform, 
gazing  at  a  great  star  that  shines  with  defiant 
brightness. 

Then  comes  the  noisy  half-hour  rush 
through  the  olive  groves  and  vineyards  of  the 
Attic  plain,  and  the  scramble  to  get  on  board 
the  dilapidated  little  Greek  steamer  adver- 
tised to  sail  exactly  at  seven. 

Once  safely  on  the  deck,  you  wait  a  full 
two  hours  while  small  boats  come  leisurely 
from  the  wharf,  rowed  by  piratical-looking 
but  good-natured  Greeks.  And  how  those 
boats  are  laden  !  Islanders  in  picturesque 


Constantine  3 

and  varied  costume;  animated  sacks  that 
tumble  aimlessly  about,  and  give  forth  squeals 
of  the  pigs  confined  within ;  old  women  with 
families  of  chickens  tied  by  the  legs;  girls 
with  affectionate  goats,  that  bleat  in  human 
tones  whenever  their  mistresses  step  for  a  mo- 
ment away;  bundles,  baskets,  and  queerly 
shaped  wine-jars  innumerable.  Finally  you 
start,  and  if  the  weather  be  favourable,  what 
a  delightful  journey  you  have  ! 

Scarcely  are  you  out  of  the  harbour  before 
Psyttaleia  is  seen,  that  small  barren  island  on 
which  Xerxes  landed  a  detachment  of  choice 
Persian  youth  just  before  the  battle  of  Sala- 
mis.  They  were  to  destroy  such  Grecian 
ships  as  might  be  forced  ashore  during  the 
engagement.  As  you  look,  Aristides  seems 
to  land  again  with  his  body  of  Hoplites. 
There  is  a  short  struggle.  The  Persians  run 
to  and  fro  in  terror,  or  cry  for  mercy  in  a 
strange  tongue.  Soon  they  are  all  slain,  and 
the  Hoplites  strip  them  of  their  armour  and 
golden  ornaments.  A  lighthouse  stands  on 
Psyttaleia  now,  and  you  can  easily  imagine  it 
a  monument  of  the  great  naval  battle.  As 
you  skirt  the  shores  of  Salamis  you  are  struck 


4  Constantine 

with  its  barren  aspect.  Perhaps,  if  your 
mind  still  dwells  on  Xerxes  and  his  fortunes, 
you  wonder  if  anything  remains  of  the  two 
hundred  and  more  ships  sunk  on  the  day  of 
his  defeat.  The  water  is  so  clear  you  almost 
fancy  that,  were  you  sailing  through  the 
Strait,  you  could  see  metallic  prows,  breast- 
plates, shields,  and  helmets  lying  there  on 
the  bottom.  You  even  wonder  if  you  should 
be  able  to  pick  out  the  ruins  of  the  Carian 
trireme  sunk  by  Queen  Artemisia. 

At  ^Egina  the  steamer  stops  for  a  moment 
well  out  to  sea,  while  sailboats  flit  forth  from 
the  white  town  for  possible  freight.  How 
dexterously  they  are  managed,  and  what  a 
commotion  their  arrival  creates !  Every 
Greek  on  board — captain,  crew,  and  passen- 
gers— shouts  advice  while  the  loading  con- 
tinues, and  each  word  uttered  is  emphasized 
with  a  gesture.  A  pillar  of  Aphrodite's  an- 
cient temple  is  visible  from  the  deck,  as  well 
as  a  new  Christian  church.  One  is  discour- 
aged when  he  reflects  that  the  old  edifice  of 
worship  was  chastely  beautiful,  while  the 
modern  is  an  architectural  nightmare.  The 
last  point  of  interest  before  arriving  at  Proso 


Constantine  5 

is  Methana,  whose  sulphur-baths  were  cele- 
brated in  antiquity,  and  about  whose  shores 
the  sharks  lay  in  wait  for  those  bathers  who 
plunged  into  the  sea  to  rid  themselves  of  the 
sulphur. 

As  you  approach  the  harbour  of  Poros,  its 
narrow  mouth  is  not  visible,  and  the  sturdy 
steamer  seems  about  to  plunge  into  the  rocky 
hills  that  lift  in  front.  But  she  makes  a  turn 
and  finds  herself  in  the  Strait ;  and,  as  you 
wind  your  way  along,  the  orange  and  lemon 
groves  of  the  Peloponnesus  unfold  before  you 
like  veritable  gardens  of  the  Hesperides. 
Higher  up,  innumerable  olive-trees  cover  the 
hill-slopes  with  their  feathery  frondage,  and 
back  of  all,  the  mountains  rear  their  eternal 
buttresses.  Suddenly,  at  the  left,  Poros 
breaks  upon  the  sight  like  a  fairy  town,  with 
its  quaint  houses  of  snowy  whiteness,  perched 
one  above  the  other  up  the  side  of  a  preci- 
pice. At  the  farther  end  of  the  harbour  an- 
other watery  lane  leads  out  into  the  great  sea 
beyond  —  the  great  sea,  whose  long  swells 
throb  away  to  the  shores  of  distant  continents 
more  or  less  mythical  to  the  Poriote.  For  is 
not  his  world  surrounded  by  mountains  ?  In 


6  Constantine 

any  direction  that  he  looks  he  beholds  a  cir- 
cling wall  of  gigantic  hills,  which  bound  his 
ocean,  his  city,  his  ambitions,  his  life.  Some- 
times, when  the  wind  is  high,  the  Poriote  lis- 
tens to  the  vast  roar  of  the  waters  behind  the 
hills,  and  says,  "  The  waves  are  running  high 
to-night."  Then  he  looks  at  the  calm  surface 
of  his  own  little  lake  and  rejoices  that  he  is 
not  of  the  great  bustling  world. 

The  town  itself  is  situated  on  a  tiny  penin- 
sula. To  reach  the  Poriote's  mainland,  or 
continent,  you  cross  a  narrow  isthmus  of 
white  sand  and  come  to  the  island  of  Cala- 
bria, which  sent  out  a  colony  in  old  times  to 
Italy.  Strangely  enough,  Greek  is  still  spoken 
in  Italian  Calabria,  though  it  is  spelled  there 
with  Latin  letters.  On  this  mainland  you 
may  make  two  excursions — one  to  the  mon- 
astery, with  its  quiet  cloister,  famous  spring, 
and  Homeric  kitchen;  the  other  to  the  site  of 
the  ancient  city  and  the  Temple  of  Poseidon, 
under  the  shadow  of  whose  pillars  Demos- 
thenes breathed  out  his  soul  from  his  poison- 
racked  body,  gazing  with  dying  eyes  towards 
Attica,  whose  soil  not  even  the  charm  of  his 
eloquence  could  save  from  the  foot  of  the 


Constantine  7 

traitor  and  the  tyrant.  It  is  pleasant  to  re- 
flect that  nowhere  on  earth  exists  a  sublimer 
prospect  of  the  sea  than  those  island-girt 
patches  shining  far  below  the  Temple  of 
Poseidon. 

But  the  Poriote  has  also  other  diversions. 
He  can  cross  over  to  the  peninsula  of  Argolis 
in  a  boat,  giving  the  sturdy  rowers  the  just 
Charon's  fee  of  one  penny,  and  can  walk  to 
the  site  of  the  ancient  city  of  Troezen.  He 
can  go  also  to  the  Devil's  Bridge,  an  arch  of 
early  masonry  spanning  a  frightful  chasm,  in 
whose  bed  boils  and  gurgles  a  stream  of  clear 
blue  water.  During  the  summer  this  rivulet 
tumbles  in  long,  thin  cataracts  over  high 
rocks,  spreads  out  in  glittering  sheets  on  the 
clean  sand,  or  collects  in  deep  cool  basins  at 
whose  sides  one  might  imagine  another  Nar- 
cissus pining  away  in  despairing  love  of  his 
own  girl-like  beauty.  Here,  curtained  with 
overhanging  moss,  are  dim  caverns  which  the 
simple  shepherd-folk  people  with  nereids, 
lineal  descendants  of  the  water-nymphs  of 
old.  In  earliest  spring  sweet  flowers  bloom 
in  Argolis — the  shy  and  fragrant  violet,  the 
exquisite  heliotrope,  the  gaudy  anemone,  and 


8  Constantine 

shrubs  covered  with  pink  and  white  bloom. 
But  most  beautiful  of  all,  and  dearest  to  the 
heart  of  the  Greek,  is  the  almond-tree,  that  in 
February  banks  the  hillsides  with  patches  of 
flowery  snow.  If  one  wishes,  he  may  take  a 
sailboat  and  flit  out  through  the  southern 
mouth  of  Poros  Bay,  and  turning  soon  to 
land,  draw  up  the  prow  on  the  shelly  sand, 
under  the  very  spot  so  loved  and  so  often 
visited  by  King  Otho  and  sweet  Queen  Ama- 
lie.  The  old  boatmen  still  remember  the  first 
king  of  modern  Greece.  High  up  on  the 
mountain-side  is  a  spot  shaded  by  large  trees 
and  refreshed  by  a  spring.  The  upward 
climb  is  difficult,  and  your  boatman,  if  he  is 
old  enough,  will  tell  you  how  easily  Amalie 
used  to  make  the  ascent,  well-nigh  impossi- 
ble to  the  degenerate  women  of  to-day. 

The  effect  upon  the  sensibilities  of  a  few 
days'  residence  in  Poros  is  peculiar.  One  is 
so  shut  off  for  the  time  being  from  the  vast- 
ness  of  the  world,  from  the  dimness  of  far 
horizons,  from  the  vagueness  of  distant  moun- 
tains, from  the  beckoning  of  limitless  seas, 
that  the  passage  outward  through  the  little 
Strait  seems  like  the  emergence  from  time 


Constantine  9 

into  eternity.  Yet  what  need  have  the  Pori- 
otes  ever  to  quit  the  shores  of  their  tiny  lake? 
The  sun  shines  warm  there  in  winter,  and  the 
sea-breeze  blows  fresh  and  fragrant  all  the 
summer  long.  They  have  everything  that 
mortals  need;  grandeur  of  mountains,  beauty 
of  stars,  fruitfulness  of  flowering  vale  and 
hillside,  and  variety  of  the  inconstant  sea. 
Then  the  rising  of  the  moon,  night  after 
night,  from  behind  the  mountain  wall,  is  a 
scene  of  endless  delight — each  time  slightly 
differing  in  shape  and  hour  of  rising,  yet 
always  seeming  to  leap  suddenly  from  the  hill- 
tops, and  to  gaze  with  wonder  down  upon 
the  white  town  snuggled  in  this  cup  of  earth. 
How  suddenly,  too,  she  pours  the  cup  full  of 
golden  light!  When  one  has  nothing  else  to 
talk  of  at  Poros  he  can  discuss  with  some 
friend  the  question:  Which  is  more  beauti- 
ful there,  the  rising  or  the  setting  of  the  sun? 
As  for  me,  I  prefer  the  latter,  because  the  sun 
goes  down  behind  the  Sleeping  Woman,  that 
sublime  mountain  which  God  hewed  in  the 
beginning  in  the  form  of  a  dreaming  giantess. 
How  placidly  she  lies!  The  knees  drawn 
reposefully  up,  the  head  thrown  back  in  utter 


io  Constantine 

abandonment  of  rest,  the  noble  face  turned 
heavenward  with  closed  eyes.  Old,  crude 
nations  have  come  and  passed  away  while  she 
had  been  sleeping  for  a  thousand  years;  the 
dawn  of  tradition  blazed  into  the  noonday  of 
history,  and  she  did  not  awaken;  long  cen- 
turies of  yearning  for  the  beautiful  brought 
exquisite  arts  into  perfect  bloom,  and  she  still 
slept  on.  Who  knows  of  what  she  is  dream- 
ing? One  thing  only  is  certain — when  the 
sun  has  but  just  disappeared  behind  those 
cold,  placid  features  they  take  on  a  softer 
look,  an  expression  of  benign,  celestial  dig- 
nity, of  unutterable  beauty. 

The  people  that  I  know  best  in  Poros  are 
the  Doctor,  Aleko,  and  the  old  sea-captain, 
all  pure  Greeks,  such  as  one  can  hardly  meet 
in  that  Frenchy  capital,  Athens.  The  two 
former  are  always  on  the  wharf  when  the 
steamer  comes  in,  and  they  greet  the  visitor 
from  Athens  as  though  he  had  unexpectedly 
arrived  from  another  world.  Aleko  is  an 
ancient  Greek  come  down  to  these  days  from 
the  time  of  Lucian.  He  speaks  his  native 
tongue  with  great  eloquence  and  perfection, 


Constantine  1 1 

and  is  a  purist  in  the  use  of  it.  Much  of  the 
day  he  spends  across  the  Strait  in  his  orange 
grove,  alone,  save  for  the  society  of  his  fowls, 
that  follow  him  about  with  evidences  of  aftec- 
tion  surprising  in  such  silly  birds.  There, 
amid  the  date-trees  and  clambering  rose- 
bushes, he  has  built  him  a  little  study,  taste- 
fully furnished,  and  overflowing  with  books. 
Besides  the  Classics,  one  finds  there  Bikelas's 
translation  of  Shakespeare,  Goethe's  Faust, 
Poe's  Tales,  and  many  other  masterpieces,  all 
admirably  done  into  modern  Greek.  I  see 
him  now  as  I  write,  small  of  stature  and  dark 
of  face,  aesthetic,  noble-minded,  excitable, 
patriotic.  The  ardent  dream  of  his  life  is  to 
be  in  the  front  ranks  when  the  Greeks  retake 
Constantinople  ;  and  if  the  army  consisted  of 
such  patriots  as  he,  it  would  start  for  the 
Macedonian  frontier  to-morrow. 

The  old  sea-captain  was  a  trusty  follower  of 
King  Otho.  He  dresses  still  as  when  in  the 
service,  and  uses  as  frequently  as  possible  the 
few  German  words  that  he  still  remembers. 
When  sober,  he  talks  in  a  gruff  voice  of  King 
Otho's  virtues;  when  made  romantic  by  drink, 


12  Constantine 

he  punctuates  his  meditative  silence  by  sighs 
emitted  at  regular  intervals,  and  exclamations 
of  "Ah,  beautiful  Queen  Amalie  ! " 

The  Doctor  is  the  Marco  Polo  of  the  place. 
He  goes  to  Athens  about  once  every  quarter, 
and  returns  with  whistled  reminiscences  of  the 
latest  airs,  and  with  greetings  and  gifts  from 
old-time  Poriotes,  not  seen  by  their  friends 
for  many  years.  Often  have  I  sat  in  the  little 
cafe"  by  the  seashore,  and  looked  through  the 
dingy  window  while  the  raindrops  pimpled 
the  harbour,  and  the  waters  crept  over  the 
pier  almost  to  the  door.  There,  while  the 
narghiles  bubbled  soothingly,  and  the  Turkish 
coffee  filled  the  room  with  its  aroma,  have  I 
told  of  the  wonders  of  New  York  and  Chicago, 
and  listened  in  turn  to  tales  of  Greek  life. 

I  first  saw  Constantine  at  the  Poros  monas- 
tery. Aleko,  the  Doctor,  and  I  were  taking 
our  coffee  under  the  great  oak-tree,  and  were 
gazing  silently  at  the  Strait,  glimmering  like 
a  mirror,  far  below,  in  the  rays  of  the  afternoon 
sun.  Suddenly  the  figure  of  a  man,  tall,  bent, 
and  old,  shuffled  by  us.  His  clothing  was 
ragged,  and  hung  loosely  about  his  shrivelled 
limbs.  He  wore  a  brimless  felt  hat,  drawn  up 


Constantine  13 

to  a  peak  in  the  crown,  like  a  fool's  cap.  In 
each  hand  was  an  earthen  jar,  and  he  was  on 
his  way  to  the  spring  for  water  for  the  monks. 
His  slippers  slapped  against  his  soles  as  he 
walked,  and  he  was  muttering  to  himself. 
"  Poor  fellow ! "  I  ejaculated  in  my  own 
tongue,  for  a  sense  of  pity  seized  me  ;  and 
the  influence  of  the  sea  and  the  mountains 
was  swept  away  in  a  moment.  The  Doctor 
did  not  understand  the  words,  but  the  tone 
was  not  lost  upon  him.  "Constantine  !"  he 
called,  and  the  human  wreck  approached. 
The  Doctor  repeated  the  first  line  of  a  little 
poem  by  Heine,  and  paused.  Constantine 
recited  the  next  line  of  the  quatrain  mechan- 
ically, but  broke  off  in  the  middle  of  the  third, 
and  recommenced  his  rambling.  "  Constan- 
tine!" said  the  Doctor  again,  sharply,  and  the 
experiment  was  repeated  with  another  poem 
from  German  literature,  with  the  same  result. 
Finally,  the  wreck  drank  the  dregs  in  each 
of  our  coffee-cups,  picked  up  his  water- jugs, 
and  shuffled  away,  mumbling  as  he  went. 

A  human  mind  in  ruins  is  always  the  most 
pitiable  spectacle  in  the  world;  but  this  ruin, 
for  some  reason  or  other,  saddened  me  inde- 


14  Constantine 

scribably.  I  looked  enquiringly  at  my  friends. 
"  Love,"  said  the  Doctor  laconically,  in 
Greek. 

"  Love  and  betrayed  friendship,"  added 
Aleko ;  "but  the  Captain  knows  the  story 
better  than  any  of  us.  Let  him  tell  us  this 
evening  at  the  cafe*." 

The  story  that  the  Captain  told,  with  the 
addition  of  other  information  obtained  at 
Athens,  forms  the  basis  of  this  truthful  tale. 


Chapter  II 


In  the  fall  of  1835  a  three-masted  schooner 
was  daintily  picking  her  way  through  the 
Cyclades.  In  general  appearance  she  did  not 
differ  much  from  hundreds  of  other  Greek 
vessels  which  at  that  time  were  enriching  their 
owners  in  the  ports  of  France,  Russia,  and 
Germany,  and  even  in  those  of  distant  Eng- 
land. But  our  story  begins  on  her  deck ;  and 
as  far  as  two  human  beings  were  concerned, 
she  represented  the  consummation  of  long- 
cherished  plans.  Every  plank  in  her  sides 
had  been  talked  of  long  before  they  were  fitted 
into  place,  and  her  white  sails  had  often 
gleamed  on  the  seas  of  youthful  fancy.  She 
was  the  realization  of  a  boyish  dream,  and  had 
been  built  by  two  young  friends,  whose  love 
was  so  great  that  they  had  always  addressed 
each  other  by  the  endearing  term  of "  brother." 
The  schooner's  name,  inscribed  upon  her 
stern  in  classic  letters,  bore  testimony  to  this 
15 


1 6  Constantine 

friendship.      She   was  known    as    the     Two 
Brothers. 

The  Two  Brothers  was  painted  green. 
She  was  109  feet  long  and  27  feet  amidships. 
She  had  been  built  in  Syra,  of  Russian  tim- 
ber, and  the  beams  that  strengthened  her 
roomy  hold  were  stout  as  the  ribs  of  a  giant. 
In  front  of  her  foremast  was  the  hand-engine 
for  lowering  and  raising  the  anchor.  This 
was  worked  by  long  iron  handles,  which,  when 
fitted  in  the  sockets,  curved  outward  to  the 
edges  of  the  deck  on  either  side.  These  same 
handles  also  served  for  the  pump,  a  double- 
barrelled  affair  behind  the  mainmast.  Di- 
rectly back  of  the  foremast  was  the  kitchen, 
which  was  little  else  than  a  wooden  box,  high 
enough  for  a  man  to  stand  in  comfortably, 
and  sufficiently  large  for  him  to  turn  round 
in,  after  making  allowance  for  the  space  occu- 
pied by  the  cooking-place.  This  latter  was 
neither  stove,  oven,  nor  fireplace,  in  the  ordi- 
nary sense  of  those  words,  but  was  merely  an 
altar  of  solid  brick  masonry,  built  up  to  about 
four  feet  in  height.  On  top,  in  the  centre, 
a  depression  had  been  dug,  in  which  charcoal 
was  fanned  into  a  blaze  by  means  of  a  broom, 


Constantine  17 

when  such  an  article  existed,  or  failing  this, 
an  old  hat.  Over  this  aperture,  when  the 
coals  were  alive,  an  iron  grate  would  be  laid, 
on  which  meat  was  broiled,  or  a  pot  set  for 
boiling  beans  and  salads.  If  the  truth  must 
be  told,  the  black  iron  pot  figured  on  the  fire 
more  often  than  the  lamb-chop  or  spring 
chicken,  for  the  diet  of  the  Greek  sailor  con- 
sists largely  of  bread  and  huge  quantities  of 
boiled  greens,  anointed  with  rancid  olive-oil 
and  lemon-juice.  When  greens  are  unob- 
tainable, beans  usually  take  their  place.  The 
interior  of  the  kitchen  was  adorned  with 
ridges  and  stalactites  of  creosote,  and  on  the 
walls  hung  various  long-handled  implements 
for  the  making  of  black  coffee,  and  for  other 
culinary  purposes.  There  was  no  outlet  for 
the  smoke  except  the  door,  and  the  sailor  who 
performed  the  duties  of  cook  had  gradually 
assumed  an  appearance  which  would  have 
done  credit  to  Old  Sooty  himself.  As  often 
as  the  smoke  within  became  unendurable,  the 
sailor  rushed  choking  from  the  door.  When 
he  washed  his  face  and  hands,  which  he  did 
not  do  over  once  a  week,  a  veritable  trans- 
formation took  place. 


1 8  Constantine 

Well  aft  was  the  captain's  cabin,  ten  feet  by 
eight  square,  and  just  high  enough  for  a  tall 
man  to  stand  in.  The  furniture  consisted  of 
a  table  and  four  wooden  chairs.  On  the 
walls  hung  a  barometer,  a  little  clock,  and 
the  inevitable  picture  of  Saint  Nicholas — a 
benevolent-faced  and  heavily  bewhiskered  per- 
sonage to  whom  the  Greek  sailor  looks  for 
special  aid  and  protection.  In  cold  weather 
an  iron  stove  about  the  size  of  a  milk-pail 
roared  away  merrily  in  the  cabin,  and  warmed 
both  this  apartment  and  the  sleeping-room, 
which  latter  was  barely  large  enough  to  hold 
a  bunk  on  either  side.  These  luxurious  quar- 
ters were  lighted  by  a  single  small  window, 
opening  into  the  dining-room.  Here  the  two 
friends  and  partners  had  been  wont  to  par- 
take of  their  homely  sailors'  fare  together,  or 
to  sip  their  resin  wine  and  smoke  innumer- 
able cigarettes,  while  planning  future  voy- 
ages, or  talking  over  boyhood  days  in  the  isle 
of  Poros. 

The  crew  lived  upon  deck,  and  even  slept 
there,  except  in  very  cold  weather,  when  they 
spent  the  night  in  small  bunks,  also  built  aft. 

Before   finishing    our    description    of   the 


Constantine  19 

Two  Brothers,  we  must  not  forget  the 
figure-head,  which  was  naught  else  than 
Nicholas  himself,  crudely  done  in  wood,  and 
looking  benevolently  down  upon  those  waters 
over  which  he  was  supposed  to  exert  so  be- 
nign an  influence.  Indeed,  the  safety  with 
which  the  gallant  schooner  outrode  the 
severest  weather,  and  the  luck  of  her  commer- 
cial ventures,  were  attributed  to  the  guardian 
care  of  the  saint — a  trust  which  he  has  not 
even  yet  abandoned,  for  she  is  still  defying 
the  waves,  and  may  be  seen  occasionally  in 
the  harbour  of  the  Piraeus  to  this  day. 

At  the  time  of  which  we  write,  the  Two 
Brothers  had  been  absent  for  nearly  a  year's 
cruise,  visiting  ports  of  the  Black  Sea  and  the 
Danube  for  the  purpose  of  selling  a  cargo  of 
Greek  products,  consisting  of  olive-oil,  wine, 
silks,  and  so  forth.  She  was  now  returning 
to  the  Piraeus,  laden  with  Russian  wheat. 
Thus  far,  all  had  gone  well  on  the  cruise. 
The  original  cargo  had  been  sold  at  a  profit, 
and  the  good  ship  had  been  attended  on  her 
return  voyage  by  fair  winds  and  pleasant 
seas.  She  was  now  off  the  western  coast  of 
the  Isle  of  Andros.  Another  day  or  two  at 


2O  Constantine 

most,  and  the  southern  point  of  Attica  would 
be  passed,  and  not  long  after  the  hill  of  Lyca- 
bettos  would  move  into  view,  like  an  island 
floating  in  the  mist. 

But  alas!  now  when  the  goal  was  so  nearly 
reached,  one  of  the  two  friends  had  been 
taken  suddenly  and  seriously  ill.  There  was 
no  doctor  on  board,  not  even  one  of  those 
old  women  in  whose  incantations  and  herb 
concoctions  the  ignorant  Greek  places  so 
much  confidence.  A  sailor,  who  claimed  an 
amateur  knowledge  of  medicine,  had  bled  the 
unfortunate  man,  and  had  brewed  him  a  hot 
drink  of  some  magic  plant  gathered  at  the 
right  phase  of  the  moon.  Incense  had  also 
been  burned  before  the  picture  of  St.  Nicho- 
las, but  to  no  avail.  The  sufferer  grew  worse 
and  worse.  He  was  lying  upon  the  deck, 
wrapped  in  blankets,  looking  between  the 
white  sails  at  the  whiter  clouds  drifting  in  the 
heavens  far  above. 

"  Spiridon,"  said  he,  in  a  husky  voice,  to  his 
partner,  who  knelt  beside  him;  "I  believe 
I  'm  dying." 

"Bah,  bah,  bah!"  replied  the  other;  "what 
are  you  saying?" 


Constantine  21 

"I  feel  weaker  and  weaker  every  minute. 
Besides,  I  had  such  a  horrible  dream  just  now. 
I  thought  I  was  on  a  steep,  lonely  mountain, 
and  there,  in  a  cave,  I  saw  three  terrible  old 
women.  The  wind  blew  their  thin  grey  hair 
about  their  heads,  and  their  backs  were  bent, 
but  their  eyes  blazed  like  lightning.  They 
all  pointed  their  fingers  at  me  and  shrieked, 
'He  shall  never  see  Poros  any  more.  The 
flowers  shall  bloom  there  in  the  springtime, 
but  his  Maroula,  the  fairest  flower  of  all,  shall 
wither  away  because  he  does  not  come.'  Oh! 
it  was  horrible! " 

And  the  sick  man  shivered  as  with  a  chill. 

"  You  must  n't  mind  the  dream.  These 
are  childish  fancies  that  we  learned  when 
boys,  and  they  come  into  your  head  because 
you  are  weak.  Be  quiet  now,  and  I  '11  make 
you  a  cup  of  coffee.  Courage,  courage!  " 

Spiridon  hastened  away  to  the  kitchen. 
After  a  few  moments  he  returned,  walking 
gingerly,  and  holding  in  each  hand  a  steam- 
ing cup  of  Turkish  coffee. 

"  Here,  my  brother,  drink  this,"  he  said, 
placing  one  of  the  cups  on  the  deck  and 


12  Constantine 

offering  the  other.  "  It  '11  warm  you  up,  and 
make  you  feel  better." 

"  It 's  no  use,"  replied  Loukas,  for  such  was 
the  sick  man's  name.  "  I  'm  sure  my  time 
has  come.  Oh!  it 's  hard  to  think  I  '11  never 
see  my  Maroula  any  more!  Do  you  remem- 
ber how  sweet  she  looked  that  night,  with  the 
orange  wreath  about  her  brow!  How  she 
blushed,  and  how  her  eyes  shone!  Do  you 
know  how  beautiful  her  eyes  are?  But  you 
can't  know.  Nobody  but  me  can  know  that. 
They  look  into  mine  so  tenderly  when  I  go 
away,  so  joyfully  when  I  come  back.  You  '11 
protect  her  and  care  for  her  when  I  'm  gone, 
won't  you,  Koumbare?  She  has  no  relatives 
—  no  one  but  me,  you  know." 

"  Courage,  brother,  courage,"  said  Spiri- 
don;  "  don't  give  way  like  this.  You  're  not 
going  to  die.  Make  up  your  mind  to  live, 
and  you  will.  Just  keep  thinking  about 
Maroula,  and  you  '11  pull  through.  She 's 
waiting  for  you,  and  the  wind  is  fair." 

Loukas  lifted  one  feeble  hand,  and  pulling 
his  partner  closer  to  him,  whispered  some- 
thing in  his  ear.  In  reply,  Spiridon  motioned 
away  the  two  or  three  sailors  who  were  stand- 


Constantine  23 

ing  near.  Then  the  man  who  was  to  live  for 
years  bent  with  his  ear  close  to  the  face  of 
the  man  whose  minutes  were  numbered,  and 
listened. 

When  Spiridon  rose  to  his  feet  again,  his 
countenance  bore  an  expression  of  mingled 
wonder  and  doubt.  He  walked  to  the  rail, 
crossing  himself  as  he  went,  and  looked  into 
the  sea.  For  a  long  time  he  stood  thus, 
meditating,  while  the  mellow  sun  slid  down 
the  western  sky. 

"Can  it  be  true?  or  is  his  mind  wander- 
ing?" he  muttered  many  times.  He  started 
like  a  guilty  man  when  an  old  sailor  touched 
him  on  the  arm. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want?"  asked  Spiridon 
sharply. 

"  Your  pardon,  Capitane,"  replied  the 
sailor,  "but  I  think  he  is  wrestling  with 
Charon." 

Spiridon  hurried  to  Loukas's  side,  and  found 
him  actually  in  the  throes  of  death.  "  Lou- 
kas!  Loukas!  "  he  called  several  times,  but 
Loukas  answered  not.  For  one  moment  a 
look  of  intelligence  lit  up  the  glazing  eyes, 
and  the  white  lips  moved  in  a  vain  effort  to 


24  Constantine 

speak.  The  limbs  shivered  faintly,  and  all 
was  over. 

Spiridon  removed  his  hat  and  crossed  him- 
self, and  all  the  members  of  the  crew,  seeing 
the  action,  understood  its  meaning,  and  did 
likewise. 

"How  bitter  a  thing  is  death!"  said  he. 
'•  Where  he  finds  two,  he  carries  away  one; 
where  three,  he  seizes  two;  and  where  one 
alone,  him  he  does  not  spare.  He  is  unyield- 
ing, he  is  blind.  He  takes  the  mother,  even 
though  she  has  a  babe  at  the  breast;  he  takes 
the  sister  from  the  brother;  he  takes  the  hus- 
band of  the  newly  wedded  bride.  May  I  be 
buried  alive,  my  brother,  if  I  do  not  do  unto 
yours  as  though  they  were  my  own!" 

Spiridon  closed  the  eyes  of  his  dead  friend, 
and  crossed  the  hands  tenderly  upon  the 
breast,  after  which  he  called  four  sailors,  who 
carried  the  body  into  the  cabin,  and  laid  it 
gently  upon  the  floor,  with  the  head  to  the 
east.  Rough  men  though  they  were,  wild 
and  uncouth-looking  in  the  uncertain  light, 
they  dragged  their  hats  from  shaggy  heads 
and  crossed  themselves  reverently.  When 
they  had  gone  from  the  bare  and  narrow 


Constantine  25 

room,  Spiridon  took  his  own  heavy  capote 
from  his  shoulders  and  laid  it  over  the  dead 
form,  after  which,  in  default  of  candles,  he  lit 
a  lantern  and  set  it  at  the  head.  Then  call- 
ing a  sailor,  he  bade  him  stay  in  the  room  with 
the  body,  while  he  walked  aft  to  the  seaman 
at  the  wheel. 

This  latter  was  a  young  man,  but  he  was 
from  Andros,  and  knew  well  every  dangerous 
rock  about  his  native  isle,  as  well  as  every 
quiet  bay  in  which  a  ship  might  safely  come 
to  anchor. 

"  You  are  an  Andriote,  Barbandone,"  said 
the  Captain;  "  is  there  not  a  little  Church  of 
the  Wilderness  near  here  somewhere?" 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  cried  Barbandone 
with  animation;  "it  overlooks  the  sea  from 
the  top  of  a  steep  cliff.  If  he  is  still  alive, 
the  monk,  old  Papa  Demetrius,  lives  alone 
in  it." 

"  Can  you  take  the  ship  there?  and  can  we 
reach  the  church  from  the  shore?"  asked 
Spiridon. 

"  Certainly,  certainly.  There  is  a  beauti- 
ful bay,  with  a  long,  moon-shaped  beach.  I 
know  the  place  well.  A  path  leads  through 


26  Constantine 

Solon's  vineyard,  and  then  up  a  ravine,  and 
finally  around  the  hill  to  the  church  itself. 
We  can  be  there  by  midnight" 

"  Let  us  go,  then,"  said  Spiridon. 

As  Barbandone  had  prophesied,  the 
schooner  came  to  anchor  shortly  after  mid- 
night in  a  semi-circular  bay,  at  the  foot  of  a 
cliff.  The  moon  was  riding  round  and  high 
in  the  cloudless  heavens,  and  its  light  fell  full 
upon  the  little  house  of  God,  perched  on  the 
rock,  far  above  the  sailors'  heads.  The  entire 
crew  stood  in  a  group  on  the  deck. 

"Papa  Demetri!  Papa  Demetri!"  called 
Barbandone  lustily  many  times,  but  no  an- 
swer came  from  above. 

"The  church  is  empty,"  said  Spiridon; 
"  the  old  eagle  has  left  his  nest." 

"  Let  us  try  once  more,"  urged  Barbandone, 
bringing  an  old-fashioned  gun  from  his  berth 
and  discharging  it.  Very  loud  and  strange 
sounded  the  report  in  the  silent  night,  and 
two  or  three  startled  echoes  called  to  each 
other  among  the  distant  hills. 

"  Hallo!  "  shouted  a  faint  voice,  seemingly 
from  the  clouds;  "  who  is  that  down  there  in 
the  shadow?  and  what  do  you  want?" 


Constantine  27 

They  looked  up.  There  stood  the  old 
priest  on  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  his  form 
clearly  outlined  in  the  overflowing  moonlight. 
His  long  hair  blew  about  his  shoulders,  and 
his  venerable  beard  broke  in  a  cataract  upon 
his  breast.  His  body  was  clad  in  a  long  cas- 
ock,  tied  about  the  waist  with  a  rope. 

"  It  is  I,"  shouted  the  helmsman,  putting 
up  his  hands  trumpet-wise;  "I,  Barbandone, 
son  of  old  Vasili  of  Batse." 

"  God  bless  you,  my  son,"  floated  down  in 
a  thin  voice,  as  if  from  heaven;  "and  God 
bless  all  the  good  Christians  with  you." 

"  We  have  work  for  you,"  cried  Spiridon. 
"  Rest  quiet;  we  are  coming  up."  Then, 
turning  to  the  crew,  he  explained  for  the  first 
time:  "  Our  brother,  before  he  died,  made  me 
promise  that  he  should  have  Christian  burial, 
and  that  he  should  lie  in  the  solid  earth. 
None  of  his  family  sleep  in  the  sea.  His 
father,  and  his  grandfather  before  him,  rest 
among  the  rocks  at  Poros;  and  it  is  not  good 
that  he  should  drift  alone  among  the  wander- 
ing waves.  Let  us  carry  him  to  the  church." 

The  body  was  brought  out,  put  in  the  boat, 
and  rowed  to  shore.  There  it  was  laid  on  a 


28  Constant!  ne 

blanket  in  lieu  of  a  bier.  Six  sailors  seized 
this  by  the  corners  and  the  two  sides,  and 
with  heads  uncovered  the  entire  distance  the 
rude  procession  wound  its  way  to  the  church. 
Over  the  level  sand  they  went,  snow-white  in 
the  rays  of  the  old  Greek  moon,  and  the  flat 
cuttlefish  bones  crunched  under  their  feet, 
through  Solon's  vineyard  and  his  olive 
orchard  on  the  hill-slope,  and  then  into  the 
long  ravine  that  by  day  blazed  with  oleander 
flowers.  When  the  ravine  flattened  out  and 
lost  itself  in  the  mountain  side,  they  followed 
the  winding  footpath  worn  by  many  worship- 
pers, coming  at  last  to  the  summit  of  the  pre- 
cipice, and  the  little  church.  This  edifice  was 
built  of  stone,  and  was  very  tiny  indeed  —  not 
large  enough  to  hold  more  than  a  dozen 
people  in  comfort.  In  the  rear  a  holy  of 
holies  had  been  partitioned  off,  before  the 
door  of  which  hung  a  cheap  calico  curtain. 
On  the  wall  was  an  altar  and  a  picture  of  the 
Virgin  painted  on  a  piece  of  board  about 
four  inches  square.  The  features  were  nearly 
obliterated,  as  if  by  exposure  to  the  elements 
—  for  was  not  this  same  Virgin  found  by  a 
shepherd-youth  on  the  very  spot  where  the 


Constantine  29 

church  now  stands?  Old  Papa  Demetri  lived 
alone  in  the  church,  and  slept  on  its  earthen 
floor.  A  very  holy  man  was  he.  Years  ago 
he  retired  to  a  convent,  in  order  that,  far 
from  the  distracting  affairs  of  men,  he  might 
fix  his  mind  on  things  spiritual.  But  even  in 
the  convent  he  found  a  human  community, 
with  its  jealousies  and  hates,  its  petty  ambi- 
tions and  disappointments.  So  he  hung  his 
little  bundle  over  his  shoulder  on  a  staff,  and 
hurried  away  by  night  to  the  Church  of  the 
Wilderness  as  soon  as  it  was  built.  Right 
fortunate  was  he,  too,  for  ere  morning  three 
other  priests  had  pushed  open  the  door  and 
gone  away  disappointed  at  finding  the  lonely 
dwelling  inhabited.  Here  indeed  could  the 
priest's  soul  grow.  No  sordid  cares  had  he, 
for  his  bread  and  wine  were  brought  to  him 
by  the  simple  island  folk,  and  the  ever-vary- 
ing yet  unchangeable  sea  filled  his  mind  with 
thoughts  of  the  Infinite. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  children,"  said  Papa 
Demetri  again,  as  the  procession  halted  before 
the  church.  "  Lay  your  burden  down  within. 
It  is  fit  that  a  Christian  should  set  forth  to  his 
last  resting-place  from  the  house  of  God. 


30  Constantine 

But  have  we  wine  here  in  which  to  wash  the 
body  ?"  continued  he,  after  the  questions  con- 
cerning the  dead  man's  orthodoxy  had  been 
satisfactorily  answered.  As  if  in  reply,  Spiri- 
don  produced  a  large  bottle  of  wine,  which 
he  had  brought  from  the  ship,  and  poor 
Loukas's  best  clothes  tied  up  in  a  winding- 
sheet.  The  last-mentioned  article  had  been 
found  among  the  sailor's  effects  —  a  provision 
for  Christian  burial  in  case  of  sudden  death 
abroad. 

"Thou  wert  his  nearest  friend,"  said  the 
priest.  Accordingly,  Spiridon  went  in,  washed 
the  body  in  wine,  wrapped  the  winding-sheet 
about  it,  and  put  the  suit  of  best  clothing  on 
over  all. 

Then  the  venerable  father  produced  four 
candles,  which  were  lighted,  and  set  two  at 
the  head  and  two  at  the  feet.  While  this  was 
going  on  a  faint  halloo  was  heard  far  down 
the  mountain  side,  and  ere  long  Barbandone, 
whose  absence  had  not  been  noticed,  came 
up.  He  was  supporting  an  old  woman,  who 
dropped  his  arm  as  soon  as  she  had  gained 
the  summit,  and  leaning  both  her  wrinkled 
hands  upon  a  short  staff,  looked  about  her. 


Constantine  3 1 

She  was  very  aged,  and  every  passing  year  had 
left  its  furrow  on  her  yellow  face.  She  was 
clad  in  black,  and  wore  a  black  handkerchief 
over  her  head.  Her  hair  was  unkempt  and 
grey,  but  her  dark  eyes  gleamed  with  un- 
quenched  youth. 

"  I  have  brought  old  Mother  Maria,"  ex- 
plained Barbandone,  "  the  most  famous 
mcerologist  on  the  island.  She  lives  in  a  lit- 
tle cabin  on  Solon's  place." 

Old  Mother  Maria  seated  herself  on  a  stool 
by  the  corpse,  and  commenced  to  rock  slowly 
to  and  fro,  groaning  lugubriously  the  while. 
About  her  in  the  crowded  church,  and  lean- 
ing through  its  door,  stood  the  rough,  hairy 
sailors,  bareheaded.  As  the  old  woman  con- 
tinued to  rock,  her  grief  increased,  and  her 
uncouth  listeners  became  visibly  affected. 
Suddenly  she  broke  out  in  fierce  denuncia- 
tion of  the  dead  man,  demanding,— 

"  What  right  had  you  to  die,  far  from  your 
home,  and  leave  thus  your  young  wife  and 
the  friends  of  your  youth?  What  wrong  have 
you  suffered  that  you  should  treat  all  who  are 
dear  to  you  in  this  shameful  way?  " 

Continuing,  she  assumed  the  character  of 


32  Constantine 

the  wife  in  lamentation  and  praise  of  the  de- 
ceased, and  of  the  husband  in  reply.  All  this 
was  delivered  in  a  wild,  monotonous  key,  and 
in  a  voice  inexpressibly  sad.  It  is  impossible 
to  give  a  correct  idea  of  a  moerologion  in 
another  tongue,  because  much  that  impresses 
the  simple-minded  hearer  as  pathetic  seems 
ridiculous  in  a  translation  to  the  cultivated 
reader.  The  following  lines  will  perhaps  give 
an  imperfect  idea  of  old  Maria's  impromptu 
song.  Doggerel  in  Greek,  it  can  be  nothing 
better  than  doggerel  in  English.  The  reader 
must  try  to  put  himself  in  the  place  of  the 
old  woman's  ignorant  hearers,  and  to  imagine 
himself  in  the  little  church,  with  the  body  of 
Loukas  actually  before  him. 

[The  Wife.} 
Up  to  the  sky  I  'd  like  to  fly,  and  there  so  humbly 

sitting, 
On  paper  white  thy  praises  write,  no  single  one 

omitting. 
Up  to  the  sky  I  'd  like  to  fly,  and  tell  my  mournful 

story: 
We  'd  see  why  thou  deniest  me,  my  darling  man, 

my  Glory. 
I  liken    thee,    my  husband,  to  a  stately  tree  in 

measure, 


Constantine  33 

That  groweth  in  the  garden  where  the  Queen  doth 

take  her  pleasure. 
If  but  the  hills  would  lower,  like  the  light  would  I 

dart  over, 
And  fall   upon  the  eyes  and  the  eyelids  of  my 

lover. 
Thou  wast  a  windowed  tower  and  a  casket  decked 

the  rarest, 
Amid  thy  goodly  brothers  thou  wast  stateliest  and 

fairest. 
My  beauteous  flower,  my  darling  bird,  to  foreign 

countries  winging, 
The  foreign  land  hath  ruined  thee  :  how  sad  is  now 

my  singing. 
This  day  is  black,  this  day  the  skies  are  by  the 

light  forsaken, 
This  day  when  father  from  his  child  so  cruelly  is 

taken. 
Charon  himself  deserves  to  die,  two  silver  swords 

should  smite  him  ; 
He  separateth  man  and  wife,  and  mother's  tears 

delight  him. 
My  Orange  and  my  Mousmoula,  in  widowhood  I  '11 

tarry ; 
Yes,  all  my  life  I  '11  wait  for  thee,  and  never,  never 

marry. 
I  '11  wander  up  the  mountain  side;  perhaps  the 

wolves  will  lend  me 
Some  plant,  that  if  I  eat  of  it,  to  my  true  love  will 

send  me. 


34  Constantine 

[The  Husband.] 

The  foreign  country  holdeth  me,  my  native  land  is 

calling, 
My  wife  for  me  doth  vainly  sigh,  her  bitter  tears 

are  falling. 

[The  Wife.} 
No  other  comfort  save  my  tears  have  I  to  ease  my 

yearning; 
They  fall  like  dew  upon  my  heart,   and  help  to 

quench  its  burning. 

As  the  old  woman  neared  the  end  of  her 
song,  her  voice  sank  lower  and  lower,  until 
nothing  was  heard  but  an  indistinguishable 
wail,  mingled  with  sobs.  When  it  became 
evident  that  the  moerologion  was  finished, 
the  priest  burned  some  incense  in  a  small 
earthen  cup,  and  said  the  usual  prayers. 
Then  the  procession  started  for  the  lonely 
grave,  which  two  of  the  sailors  had  already 
digged  near  the  edge  of  the  precipice.  The 
ship's  boy  was  given  a  crude  cross,  which  he 
lifted  on  high.  After  him  came  four  sailors 
with  the  body  on  a  blanket.  Beside  these 
walked  old  Maria,  wringing  her  hands  and 
groaning  dismally,  and  followed  by  the  priest 
chanting  the  solemn  service  for  the  dead. 


Constantine  35 

The  body  was  soon  lowered  into  the  grave 
and  the  brief  ceremonial  finished,  after  which 
every  one  present  threw  in  a  handful  of 
earth.  The  two  sailors  seized  their  shovels, 
but  ere  they  had  commenced  to  push  in  the 
heap  of  fresh  dirt,  the  voice  of  Spiridon  was 
heard,  crying,  "  Hold  !  " 

All  looked  at  him,  and  beheld  the  blade  of 
a  long  knife  gleaming  in  his  hand.  In  a  mo- 
ment he  had  dropped  into  the  shallow  grave, 
and  had  commenced  slitting  the  dead  man's 
clothing. 

"That  was  not  necessary,  my  son,"  said  the 
priest,  when  the  curious  ceremony  had  been 
finished.  "There  are  no  grave-robbers  in 
this  lonely  part  of  the  world." 

"  There  is  no  part  of  the  world  so  lonely 
that  it  hath  not  evil  men,  my  father,"  replied 
Spiridon;  "besides,  the  widow  will  grieve 
less  if  she  knows  that  all  fitting  things  were 
done." 

"You  did  well,  you  did  well,"  mumbled 
the  old  woman. 

At  the  church  a  tin  cup  was  produced,  and 
the  little  group,  standing  in  front  of  the  door, 
drank  to  the  rest  of  the  dead  man's  soul  and 


36  Constantine 

to  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins.  Each  sailor  in 
turn,  as  the  cup  reached  him,  praised  the  vir- 
tues or  the  wisdom  of  the  deceased,  closing 
the  brief  panegyric  with  the  prayer,  "  May 
God  give  him  rest,"  or  "  May  God  forgive  his 
sins."  Spiridon  spoke  last  : 

"  When  we  were  foolish  children,"  said  he, 
"  we  played  together  like  twin  kids.  In  boy- 
hood we  were  inseparable,  and  when  our 
beards  first  began  to  sprout  we  joined  our 
fortunes.  Nothing  ever  came  between  us  to 
cast  the  slightest  shadow  over  our  friendship. 
And  now,  in  a  day,  in  a  moment,  Charon  has 
snatched  him  from  me  forever.  He  has  left 
a  young  flower  in  Poros  that  will  wither  when 
it  receives  no  more  the  sunshine  of  his  smile. 
Her  will  I  take  to  my  mother's  house,  and  she 
shall  have  the  just  share  of  my  earnings  hence- 
forth, as  though  her  husband  were  still  alive. 
I  promised  him  I  'd  take  care  for  his  widow, 
and  she  shall  be  as  my  own  sister.  Farewell, 
my  brother,  may  your  memory  be  eternal!  " 

So  one  of  the  friends  was  left  in  his  grave 
on  the  cliff,  and  the  other  sailed  away  in  the 
early  morning.  As  the  white  canvas  of  the 
schooner  filled  with  the  breeze,  the  sun  rose 


Constantine  37 

from  a  distant  island,  and  the  wimpling 
waters  of  the  ^Egean  blushed  rosily.  The  old 
priest  came  out  upon  his  cliff  and  spread  his 
arms,  crying,  "  God  bless  you,  my  children," 
in  a  voice  that  floated  over  the  waters,  faint 
but  distinct.  The  sailors,  standing  upon  the 
deck,  looked  up  and  crossed  themselves. 


Chapter  III 

The  living-room  in  a  neat  little  cottage  in 
the  island  of  Poros  was  filled  with  guests,  evi- 
dently there  on  some  important  occasion,  for 
all  bore  evidence  of  having  paid  careful  at- 
tention to  their  toilet.  The  men  wore  clean 
fustanellas,  and  the  silver  handles  of  elabo- 
rately adorned  daggers  protruded  from  more 
than  one  silken  sash.  Several  of  the  girls  had 
donned  gold-embroidered  jackets  of  velvet, 
and  all  wore  highly  coloured  handkerchiefs  of 
silk  twisted  about  their  heads. 

Very  primitive  indeed,  according  to  Eng- 
lish or  American  ideas,  was  the  apartment  in 
which  this  assembly  was  gathered.  In  one 
corner  stood  the  bed,  a  solid  block  of  masonry 
about  six  feet  long  and  four  wide.  A  stone 
wall  four  inches  high  ran  along  the  outer  edge 
of  the  top,  to  keep  the  occupants  from  roll- 
ing out.  Within  the  enclosure  thus  formed 
lay  a  rough  mattress  of  straw,  on  which  were 
38 


Constantine  39 

piled  several  home-made  rugs  and  one  or  two 
sheepskins.  A  picture  of  the  Virgin  Mary 
and  the  church  at  Tenos,  together  with  a  few 
wooden  chairs  and  a  table,  completed  the 
adornment  and  furnishing  of  the  room.  The 
house  was  built,  like  those  below  and  above 
it,  on  a  shelf  of  a  huge  perpendicular  rock. 
It  was  reached  by  a  flight  of  steps  cut  in  the 
stone,  and  besides  the  living-room,  possessed 
only  one  other  —  the  kitchen.  Three  windows 
in  front  and  a  terrace  overlooked  the  sea.  On 
the  table  already  mentioned  were  three  huge 
coulouria,  ring-shaped  loaves  of  bread,  resem- 
bling life-preservers,  besides  various  sweet- 
meats, and  an  earthen  pitcher  of  wine. 

By  the  table  sat  an  old  woman,  swaying  a 
young  babe  to  and  fro  in  her  arms,  which  she 
occasionally  held  up  to  view  for  the  better  in- 
spection of  some  newly  arrived  guest.  The 
baby  was  evidently  the  hero  of  the  evening. 

"You  are  sure  the  wine  is  good?  "asked 
one  of  the  women. 

"  It  could  n't  be  better,"  replie'd  the  baby's 
nurse. 

"  It  is  famous,"  declared  a  young  man,  tast- 
ing it  and  smacking  his  lips. 


40  Constantine 

"  And  the  sweetmeats,"  exclaimed  a  pretty 
maiden  with  enthusiasm,  "  how  lovely  they 
are!  " 

"  The  whole  repast  is  a  masterpiece," 
chimed  in  another.  "  I  am  sure  if  the  Fates 
are  not  satisfied  with  this  they  are  very  hard 
to  suit.  But  are  you  certain  you  are  not 
afraid  to  stay  alone,  my  Chryse?  " 

"Not  I,"  said  the  old  woman;  "the  Fates 
will  do  nothing  to  me,  and  if  they  should  try 
to  harm  me,  I  have  but  to  make  the  sign  of 
the  cross,  and  call  on  the  Holy  Virgin.  If 
thou  wilt,  however,  Widow  Elene,  thou  mayest 
remain  with  me." 

The  evening  passed  quickly,  for  conversa- 
tion soon  turned  upon  the  appearance  and 
character  of  the  Three  Fates,  those  mysteri- 
ous beings  who  come  on  the  seventh  night 
after  the  birth  of  an  infant  and  decide  what 
its  future  life  shall  be.  For  that  reason  the 
poorest  women  in  many  parts  of  Greece  set 
out  a  feast  at  the  appointed  time,  that  the 
dreaded  visitors  may  be  propitiated.  If  the 
wine  is  of  the  best  and  the  sweetmeats  are 
delicious,  such  an  effect  may  be  produced  on 
these  whimsical  beings  as  will  have  a  favour- 


Constantine  41 

able  bearing  on  the  infant's  entire  after-life. 
Elene,  the  old  woman  who  had  agreed  to 
spend  the  night  with  the  nurse,  had  on  one 
occasion  seen  the  Three  Fates. 

"  Tell  us  about  it,  tell  us  about  it,"  cried 
all  the  guests  in  chorus  ;  and  every  eye  was 
focussed  on  the  old  woman,  who,  thus  becom- 
ing the  most  important  person  in  the  room, 
determined  to  be  coaxed  a  little. 

"You  will  not  believe  me,"  said  she. 

"Why,  my  widow,"  chorussed  her  would- 
be  listeners,  "when  did  we  ever  doubt  you?" 

"  You  will  say  I  was  dreaming." 

"  Never,  never." 

"  Or  that  perhaps  I  had  been  drinking  too 
much." 

"  We  would  never  be  so  rude.  We  will 
not  go  till  you  tell  us." 

"Go  on,"  pleaded  a  fisherman,  "and  I'll 
send  you  the  first  half-dozen  fine  red  mullets 
that  I  catch." 

"And  I,"  urged  a  shepherd,  "will  bring 
you  to-morrow  an  elegant  bowl  of  Yaourti." 

Thus  persuaded,  Elene  seated  herself  and 
took  a  pinch  of  snuff  preparatory  to  com- 
mencing her  recitation.  The  titilating  pow- 


42  Constantine 

der  seemed  an  hour  producing  the  desired 
effect,  but  when  at  length  a  series  of  violent 
sneezes  followed,  every  one  good-naturedly 
cried  out,  "Your  health  1"  Thus  refreshed, 
the  old  woman  commenced. 

"  It  was  the  seventh  night  after  the  birth  of 
little  Yanko  Melas.  What  a  beautiful  table 
we  had  spread  for  the  Fates!  Wine  of  San- 
torin,  sweet  as  honey  ;  beautiful  red  resinato, 
from  the  cellar  of  the  old  Melas  himself ; 
honey-cakes,  Halva  and  Syra  Loukoumi. 
The  whole  table  was  hidden  with  good 
things.  Then  there  was  a  basin  full  of 
strained  Syra  honey.  At  the  edge  of  it  we 
stuck  three  newly  made  church  candles  and 
lighted  them.  One  we  named  Mary,  one 
Jesus  Christ,  and  the  other  John  the  Baptist. 
Papas  Loukas  read  the  creed  three  times, 
after  which  we  sat  watching  the  candles. 
How  silent  we  were!  Not  a  sound  was  heard, 
save  the  occasional  crying  of  the  young  ,babe, 
who  lay  in  my  arms,  so  foolish  and  so  inno- 
cent, little  knowing  how  much  it  all  meant 
for  him  !  " 

"  Suddenly  the  father  shouted,  '  It 's  Saint 
John,  it's  Saint  John!'  And  sure  enough, 


Constantine  43 

although  the  three  candles  had  burned  down 
almost  together,  the  one  we  had  dedicated  to 
John  the  Baptist  sputtered  and  went  out  first! 
The  baby  had  not  yet  been  baptized,  as  a 
matter  of  course.  So  the  koumbaros,  who 
was  naturally  present,  determined  to  call  him 
Joannes,  and  he  was  baptized  under  that 
name  the  very  next  Sunday.  Finally,  the 
guests  all  went  home,  and  I  and  the  mother 
were  left  in  the  room  alone.  We  left  the 
door  ajar,  and  went  to  bed.  No  danger  of 
our  going  to  sleep!  How  we  watched  that 
door!  It  was  so  still  in  there  I  could  hear  the 
beating  of  Kuria  Melas's  heart! " 

"Are  you  sure  it  was  not  your  own?" 
roguishly  inquired  the  fisherman. 

"  If  I  am  interrupted  again,"  said  the  old 
woman  severely,  "I  shall  not  proceed." 

"Remember  the  red  mullets,  my  sister," 
whispered  some  one  at  her  elbow,  and  the 
story  continued.  "  Finally,  just  as  the  hour 
was  balancing  at  the  summit  of  midnight 
before  sliding  down  on  the  morning  side, 
we  heard  the  door  go  kruk!  kruk!  Slowly, 
slowly  it  opened,  and  three  terrible  old 
women  came  in!  They  were  much  taller  than 


44  Constantine 

human  beings,  and  their  eyes  were  like  bright 
swords." 

"Holy  Virgin!"  exclaimed  several  of  the 
listeners,  and  all  crossed  themselves  hurriedly. 

"  They  went  straight  to  the  table,  and  one 
of  them  tasted  the  wine.  '  It  is  good,'  said 
she  in  a  deep  voice.  '  'T  is  a  masterpiece,' 
said  the  second.  '  Such  honey-cakes  are  rare,' 
said  the  third.  Then  the  first  spoke  again: 
'  I  grant  him  the  gifts  of  the  angels ';  and  the 
second:  'Whenever  he  laughs,  may  two  dewy 
roses  fall  upon  his  cheeks';  and  the  third: 
1  Whenever  he  weeps,  may  pearls  flow  from 
his  eyes!'  Finally  they  threw  a  ring  on  the 
table,  with  a  stone  in  it  that  glittered  like  a 
star,  and  all  cried  together:  '  May  it  guard 
him  from  every  evil! '  After  which  they  van- 
ished, and  the  room  gleamed  for  a  moment 
as  with  a  sudden  flash  of  lightning!  " 

"Holy  Virgin!"  exclaimed  all  present, 
crossing  themselves  again. 

"Did  you  find  the  ring?"  asked  the  fisher- 
man. 

"Why  not?"  demanded  the  old  woman. 
"  Yanko  Melas  wears  it  to  this  day;  and  has  n't 
he  been  fortunate  all  his  life?  As  a  boy  he 


Constantine  45 

escaped  whooping-cough  and  measles!  Once 
he  was  in  a  caique  which  was  upset,  and  all 
were  drowned  except  him!  And  now  he  is 
to  marry  an  heiress  with  twenty  thousand 
drachmas  proeka!  " 

"  That,  of  course,  settles  it,"  admitted  the 
doubting  Thomas.  "  A  cat  might  have  eaten 
the  sweetmeats,  but  if  the  ring  was  there,  that 
settles  it." 

Towards  eleven  o'clock,  after  much  drink- 
ing of  resin  wine,  and  many  toasts  to  the 
babe's  welfare,  the  guests  departed,  leaving 
the  two  old  women  alone.  Chryse  placed  the 
infant  in  the  high  bed,  Elene  holding  the 
flickering  candle.  "  Bless  his  bright  eyes," 
said  the  latter,  standing  tiptoe,  and  looking 
into  the  child's  face;  "he  deserves  the  best !  " 

"And  his  mother  dead,  too,  poor  thing," 
sighed  Chryse.  "  Well,  well,  when  the  father 
comes,  he  '11  have  the  consolation  of  knowing 
that  we  did  everything  we  could."  With  this 
observation  the  nurse  took  the  candle  and  set 
it  on  the  table. 

"O  Fates,  daughter  of  Fates,"  said  she 
solemnly,  "  come  and  fate  well  this  child  of 
dead  Maroula,  and  give  him  Alexandria  with 


46  Constantine 

its  mills,  the  sea  with  its  ships,  and  Stamboul 
with  its  diamonds  !  " 

Crossing  themselves,  the  old  women  climbed 
into  bed  without  undressing,  leaving  the  door 
ajar  and  the  candle  flickering  dimly  on  the 
table.  For  some  time  they  managed  to  keep 
their  eyes  open,  and  as  often  as  the  wind 
made  the  door  creak,  two  comical  old  heads 
rose  from  the  bed  and  peeped  cautiously  about 
the  room. 

"  They  're  coming,"  they  whispered. 

"  No;  it  is  not  yet  twelve." 

"  Now  they  're  coming." 

"  No;  it  was  the  wind." 

But  age  and  the  resin  wine  at  last  triumphed 
over  superstition,  and  ere  the  mysterious  hour 
of  twelve  had  arrived  the  grey-haired  watch- 
ers were  wrapped  in  deep  slumber,  with  the 
innocent  babe  between  them.  A  puff  of  wind 
flew  in  like  a  frightened  bat,  and  blew  out  the 
candle  with  its  wing,  leaving  the  room  in 
utter  darkness.  Still  the  Fates  came  not ! 
The  crescent  moon  fell  swift  and  keen  as  the 
blade  of  a  guillotine  through  the  sky,  and 
disappeared  behind  the  mountains,  and  yet 
the  Fates  delayed  !  Finally  a  ship  drifted  in 


Constantino  47 

front  of  the  dim-white  town,  and  shed  its  sails 
as  the  leaves  are  blown  from  a  tree.  The 
anchor  chain  played  out  noisily,  and  ere  the 
long  iron  fingers  of  the  anchor  had  gripped 
the  sand,  a  little  boat  had  started  for  the 
shore.  The  babe's  fate  sat  at  the  helm  !  No 
sooner  had  the  prow  scrunched  on  the  beach 
than  a  man  stepped  over  the  seats  and  leaped 
eagerly  to  shore.  Without  even  looking  be- 
hind him,  he  strode  across  the  sea-walk  in 
front  of  the  town  and  plunged  into  a  dark 
narrow  street  leading,  like  all  the  others,  up 
the  hill.  He  must  have  known  his  way  well, 
for  when  his  form  reappeared  high  up,  dim  in 
the  starlight,  he  was  bearing  off  to  the  right, 
and  was  still  striding  on  without  the  least 
hesitation.  At  last  he  arrived  at  the  door  of 
the  cottage  where  the  two  old  women  were 
sleeping. 

"The  door  is  open,"  he  muttered.  "  This 
Maroula  was  always  a  fearless  lass."  Then 
he  called  several  times  softly,  "  Maroula!  Ma- 
roula! Poor  child,  she  does  well  to  sleep! 
She  will  wake  too  soon,  at  the  quickest! " 

"Did n't  you  hear  something?  "  whispered 
Elene,  fearfully. 


48  Constantine 

"No;  I  was  sleeping";  and  the  two  comical 
old  heads  arose  again  from  the  bed. 

"Maroula!  Maroula!  "  called  the  man  a 
second  time,  louder. 

"Hark'  they're  calling  Maroula,"  whis- 
pered Chryse,  her  teeth  chattering;  "  they 
don't  know  the  poor  thing  is  dead."  Here 
was  a  dreadful  thought!  The  grim  and  mys- 
terious visitors  were  ignorant  of  the  mother's 
death,  and  might  be  enraged  at  finding  only 
strangers  in  the  house.  The  two  heads 
bobbed  down  into  the  bed  and  were  immedi- 
ately wrapped  in  the  blankets,  held  tightly  by 
four  withered  hands.  The  shouting  loudened, 
but  no  answer  came  from  within.  The  man 
hammered  at  the  door,  and  the  babe  awoke 
and  cried,  but  the  old  women  only  crouched 
the  closer  in  the  blankets,  and  whispered  the 
name  of  the  Virgin  repeatedly. 

At  this,  wonder  overcame  the  midnight  vis- 
itor. "By  all  the  saints,"  said  he,  "what 
miracle  is  this? "  Pushing  open  the  door, 
he  walked  boldly  into  the  room. 

A  moment  later  he  collided  violently  with 
the  table  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 
Over  it  he  went,  throwing  down  wine-bottle, 


Constantine  49 

plates,  glasses  and  candlestick  with  much  clat- 
ter. 

Chryse  and  Elene  sat  up  in  bed  and  added 
their  terrified  voices  to  that  of  the  babe.  The 
man  was  now  too  overcome  with  perplexity  to 
say  anything.  He  hastily  drew  flint  and  tin- 
der from  his  pocket,  and,  after  much  scratch- 
ing, produced  a  light,  by  the  aid  of  which  he 
succeeded  in  finding  the  candle  on  the  floor. 
Lighting  this,  and  holding  it  up  to  his  face, 
he  advanced  to  the  bed. 

"  In  the  name  of  St.  Nicholas,"  said  he, 
"what  hullabaloo  is  this?  and  what  does  it  all 
mean?  " 

"Chryse,  Elene,  do  you  not  know  me  — 
me,  Spiridon,  who  sailed  away  in  the  Two 
Brothers?  Where  is  Maroula?  and  whose  lit- 
tle one  is  this?" 

The  old  women  stared  for  a  moment  con- 
fusedly at  the  stalwart  sailor;  but  the  face  of 
their  fellow-townsman  was  too  familiar  for 
them  to  remain  long  in  doubt. 

"It  is  himself,"  they  said  with  a  sigh  of 
relief. 

"But  where  is  Loukas?"  asked  Chryse. 
"  Did  you  leave  him  in  the  ship?  We  have 


50  Constantine 

something  here  to  show  him.  And  we  have 
sad  news  for  him  —  sad  news  mingled  with 
good." 

"  Poor  Loukas  is  dead.  He  will  come  to 
Poros  no  more.  He 's  buried  by  a  little 
Church  of  the  Wilderness  in  the  Isle  of 
Andros." 

The  two  old  women  looked  silently  into 
each  other's  eyes,  and  crossed  themselves 
three  times  successively. 

"  But  where  is  Maroula  ?  I  've  come  to  tell 
her  the  sad  news." 

"  Do  you  tell  him,"  said  Elene,  after  a  long 
pause. 

"  No  ;  you  tell  him  —  I  cannot.  It 's  too 
sad." 

"Well,  then,  Maroula  is  dead  too.  She 
died  seven  days  ago  giving  birth  to  this  little 
one."  "  Here,"  continued  Elene,  bringing 
the  babe  from  the  bed,  "  is  the  son  of  Loukas 
and  Maroula.  Poor  thing,  you've  got  no 
father  nor  mother  now.  So  little,  and  all 
alone  in  the  world." 

"  Nay,"  cried  Spiridon,  his  form  shaken  by 
sobs;  "it's  not  alone  in  the  world.  I'll  be 
father  and  mother  and  nounos  to  the  boy.  I 


Constantine  51 

swear  by  my  hopes  of  eternal  life  that  he 
shall  be  like  my  eyes  to  me.  Come  to  your 
nounos,  my  little  Palikari."  And  Spiridon 
handed  the  candle  to  Chryse  and  took  the 
child  in  his  arms.  The  wee  bundle  of  hu- 
manity looked  up  for  a  moment  with  big 
beautiful  eyes  into  the  face  of  the  tall  sailor. 
And  the  two  old  women  declared  that  it 
smiled. 

"  God  be  praised  ! "  said  they  devoutly, 
sobbing  in  their  turn. 

After  the  natural  questions  had  been  asked 
and  answered  on  both  sides,  Spiridon  an- 
nounced his  intention  of  returning  to  the 
ship,  and  bade  Elene  and  Chryse  good-night. 
But  the  latter  would  not  consent  to  remain  in 
the  house.  The  repast  of  the  Fates  had  been 
rolled  on  to  the  floor.  The  terrible  beings 
might  yet  appear,  and  "  Who  knows,"  said 
Chryse,  "into  what  a  dangerous  rage  they 
may  fly  when  they  see  the  wine  spilled  and 
the  sweetmeats  soiled  with  dirt?" 

So  Spiridon  escorted  the  two  old  women 
and  the  babe  to  Elene's  house,  and  took  his 
own  way  back  to  the  schooner. 

"Is  it  not  fortunate,"  asked  the  nurse,  be- 


52  Constantine 

fore  retiring  for  a  second  time,  "  that  the  boy 
has  so  good  a  protector  ?  "  But  Elene  shook 
her  head.  "Nay,  nay,"  she  answered;  "the 
Fates  will  come  and  find  their  feast  scattered 
on  the  floor.  Who  knows  what  evil  things 
they  may  say  ?  I  fear  greatly  that 's  a  bad 


Chapter  IV 

The  very  next  day  Spiridon  set  out  with  his 
mother  and  a  party  of  her  female  friends  in 
search  of  baptismal  garments  and  other 
necessaries.  The  articles  which  he  bought 
were  of  the  finest,  and  the  gossips  of  Poros 
long  after  applauded  his  generosity.  He  went 
to  the  jeweller's  and  commanded  a  tiny  cross 
of  solid  gold  with  a  slender  chain  of  the  same 
material  for  the  prospective  Christian's  neck. 
Thence  he  went  to  the  store  of  a  man  who 
kept  a  stock  of  baptismal  and  marriage  goods, 
where,  after  much  searching  on  his  own  part, 
and  more  advice  on  that  of  his  female  com- 
panions, he  succeeded  in  selecting  a  complete 
infantile  outfit,  from  stockings  to  embroidered 
jacket  and  tiny  cap.  So  intent  was  he  in  the 
purchase  of  these  things  that  he  nearly  forgot 
iheforia,  or  souvenirs  for  the  guests.  These 
he  ordered,  to  prevent  ill-feeling,  of  the  only 
53 


54  Constantine 

other  jeweller  in  the  place.  They  were  all 
alike  —  silver  stars,  with  a  picture  of  Christ's 
baptism  stamped  on  one  side  and  of  his  birth 
on  the  other.  One  hundred  souvenirs  he 
ordered,  all  with  neat  ribbons  attached,  that 
the  guests  might  easily  pin  them  onto  their 
clothing.  Nor  did  he  cease  his  preparations 
until  he  had  purchased  a  huge  candle  of  orna- 
mental shape,  gaily  adorned  with  ribbons, 
and  three  smaller  ones  of  beeswax;  the  former 
to  be  lighted  and  held  during  the  ceremony, 
the  three  latter  to  be  fixed  in  sockets  about 
the  edge  of  the  font. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  baptism  the  church 
was  filled.  The  sad  story  of  the  baby's  father 
and  mother,  and  Spiridon's  oath  to  act  as  its 
natural  protector,  had  excited  general  inter- 
est. Never  had  old  Papas  Antoni  been 
more  impressive  in  official  robes,  his  long 
grey  hair  tied  up  in  a  woman's  knot  at  the 
back  of  his  head,  and  his  white  beard  spread- 
ing out  like  a  fan  upon  his  chest.  The  cere- 
mony itself  went  off  beautifully.  Spiridon 
looked  very  noble,  dressed  in  white  fustanel- 
las,  with  his  candle  in  his  hand,  and  many 
feminine  ejaculations  were  heard  as  the  nurse 


Constantine  55 

appeared  by  his  side,  holding  what  seemed  to 
be  a  bundle  of  linen  in  her  arms. 

The  priest  lit  the  candles,  made  a  circle 
about  the  font  with  a  censer,  and  blessed  the 
water,  blowing  three  invisible  crosses  above  it 
with  his  lips.  After  the  preliminary  prayers 
the  babe  was  stripped  of  his  wraps,  and  the 
priest  bathed  him  in  olive  oil,  and  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross  upon  the  child's  forehead, 
saying:  "Constantine,  servant  of  God,  I 
anoint  thee  with  the  oil  of  joy,  in  the  name 
of  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost.  Amen." 

The  same  sacred  sign  was  made  upon  Con- 
stantine's  chest,  his  ears,  his  hands,  and  his 
feet:  upon  his  chest,  for  the  health  of  soul 
and  body;  his  ears,  that  he  might  hear  the 
words  of  faith;  his  feet,  that  he  might  walk 
in  the  narrow  way;  his  hands,  because  "  Thy 
hands  made  and  fashioned  me."  Then  the 
priest  took  Constantine  beneath  the  arms 
and  held  him  upright  over  the  font,  with  his 
face  towards  the  east,  saying:  "  I  baptize  thee 
in  the  name  of  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy 
Ghost."  He  plunged  him  three  times  be- 
neath the  water;  this  being  almost  hot,  Con- 
stantine came  up  red  as  a  rose,  at  which  all 


56  Constantine 

the  women  whispered  in  audible  chorus,  "The 
poor  little  darling!  " 

The  little  darling  did  not  seem  to  enjoy 
the  proceeding  very  much,  for  he  spluttered 
and  gasped  like  a  drowning  man,  and,  as 
soon  as  he  had  recovered  his  breath,  broke 
forth  into  a  series  of  screams  that  quite 
eclipsed  all  his  previous  efforts.  After  Con- 
stantine had  been  dried  with  the  sacerdotal 
garment,  he  was  handed  to  Spiridon,  and  the 
most  important  part  of  the  ceremony  then 
took  place.  The  priest  dipped  a  brush  in  a 
small  silver  bottle  filled  with  the  Holy  Chrism, 
oil  blessed  in  Constantinople  by  the  Patri- 
arch, and  sent  out  to  all  the  Greek  churches 
of  the  world;  with  this  he  marked  the  child 
many  times  with  the  sign  of  the  cross,  saying 
repeatedly,  "  The  seal  of  the  gift  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  Amen." 

Papas  Antoni  now,  for  the  first  time  dur- 
ing the  rite,  allowed  his  face  to  relax  into  a 
smile,  for  it  now  became  his  duty  to  take  the 
scissors  attached  to  the  silver  bottle,  and  to 
cut  off  three  locks  of  hair  from  the  shiny  lit- 
tle head.  The  hands  of  the  priest  looked 
very  clumsy  during  this  operation,  the  shears 


Constantine  57 

very  big,  and  the  white  fuzz  on  the  head  ex- 
tremely fine.  But  three  imaginary  locks  were 
finally  cut  off  and  thrown  into  the  holy  water 
during  universal  tittering.  Constantine  was 
dressed  in  the"  clothes  purchased  for  him  by  his 
nounos;  and  then  came  Spiridon's  turn  to  feel 
proud.  Taking  the  young  Christian,  who 
looked  very  cunning  indeed  in  the  white  bap- 
tismal costume,  upon  his  left  arm,  and  hold- 
ing the  huge  candle,  gaily  decked  with  ribbon, 
in  his  right  hand,  he  walked  three  times 
around  the  font,  accompanied  by  the  holy 
father. 

That  night  half  a  dozen  fires  burned  in 
front  of  the  house  of  Spiridon's  mother,  and  by 
each  of  them  sat  a  boy  slowly  turning  a  long 
spit  —  six  young  lambs  were  being  deliciously 
roasted.  About  the  door  and  in  the  princi- 
pal room  were  collected  a  throng  of  guests, 
for  the  nounos  was  giving  a  befitting  dinner 
to  his  friends.  Wine  flowed  freely,  and  many 
were  the  toasts  drunk  to  the  future  prosper- 
ity of  Constantine,  and  to  Spiridon's  health 
and  happiness.  Nor  were  poor  Maroula  and 
Loukas  forgotten;  the  courage  and  manliness 
of  the  one  were  extolled,  the  beauty  and 


58  Constantine 

virtues  of  the  other.  Their  happy  marriage 
was  recalled  by  the  simple  villagers,  most  of 
whom  had  been  present  on  that  occasion;  and 
now  the  two  were  sleeping  far  apart,  the  hus- 
band on  a  lonely  promontory  in  the  Isle  of 
Andros,  the  bride  in  the  village  graveyard. 

"But  Constantine  shall  never  miss  them," 
said  Spiridon  again  and  again;  "  I  '11  be  like  his 
own  father  to  him,  and  my  mother  shall  be 
his  mother." 

"Ah!  that  will  never  do,"  cried  Elene, 
hearing  this  part  of  the  programme.  "  Your 
mother  is  getting  old;  we  must  find  you  a 
wife,  who  '11  care  both  for  Constantine  and 
the  little  mother." 

"Bah,  bah,  bah!  d 'you  think  if  I  were  to 
marry  one  of  these  beautiful  maidens  I  could 
go  off  and  leave  her  behind  ?  I  must  keep 
the  ship  going  for  the  boy's  sake;  he  shall 
have  his  father's  share  of  the  profits." 

At  this  some  of  the  maidens  blushed,  and 
some  sighed. 

"  We  '11  find  you  a  wife  with  a  proeka>  you 
so  noble  and  handsome." 

"  Long  live  Mrs.  Spiridon,"  cried  a  young 
sailor,  clicking  his  glass  against  that  of  his 


Constantine  59 

neighbour,  and  the  old  woman's  voice  was 
drowned  in  a  sudden  chorus  of  "  Zetos." 

"You  must  sell  the  ship  and  settle  here," 
she  continued,  when  the  cheering  had  sub- 
sided. 

"  V/here  all  are  so  beautiful,"  said  the  host 
gallantly,  "it  is  hard  to  decide";  and  all  the 
girls  blushed. 

But  Elene  was  a  famous  and  determined 
matchmaker.  After  the  guests  had  departed 
she  lingered  and  urged  upon  Spiridon  the 
necessity  of  matrimony. 

"It  is  too  soon  after  poor  Loukas's  death," 
he  objected  sadly;  "besides,  I  have  not  yet 
met  the  particular  maiden." 

"  It 's  only  the  hills  that  do  not  meet,"  re- 
plied the  old  woman,  oracularly  taking  her 
leave. 


Chapter  V 

As  nounos,  or  godfather  to  the  babe,  Spiri- 
don  had  taken  upon  himself  obligations  of 
the  most  solemn  nature.  It  became  necessary 
for  him  to  instruct  his  charge,  as  the  latter 
advanced  in  years,  in  the  precepts  of  the 
Orthodox  Church.  He  was  considered  the 
boy's  spiritual  father,  as  it  were,  and  therefore 
a  more  important  personage  than  the  natural 
parents.  They  had  been  instrumental  in 
bringing  a  life  into  the  world;  Spiridon  had 
officiated  at  that  rite  by  which  alone  is  it  pos- 
sible for  a  soul  to  enter  upon  the  life  eternal. 
What  sacred  responsibilities,  therefore,  does 
the  nounos  take  upon  himself;  and  if  he  ful- 
fil them  faithfully,  what  treasure  of  grace  is 
laid  up  to  his  credit  in  Heaven!  But  Spiri- 
don, from  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  the 
case,  was  bound  to  this  babe  by  still  greater 
ties  of  responsibility.  The  little  one  was  the 
relic  of  his  dearest  friend,  and  he  had  prom- 
60 


Constantine  61 

ised  solemnly,  in  the  presence  of  half  the 
inhabitants  of  Poros,  to  be  more  than  a  father 
to  him.  And  very  touching  it  was  to  see  the 
strong  sea-captain  rocking  the  tiny  infant  in 
his  arms,  singing  to  him  the  while  sweet  Romaic 
cradle-songs  in  a  deep  but  tender  voice. 

Many  days  the  good  ship  lay  at  anchor  like 
a  seagull  with  its  wings  folded,  and  still 
Spiridon  lingered  on  in  Poros.  Often  the 
kindly  face  of  Papas  Antoni  peeped  in  at 
the  door,  and  his  "  God  bless  you,  Christian 
children,"  was  so  heartfelt  that  it  fell  like 
mellow  sunshine  upon  the  souls  of  those 
within.  Mother  Leonidas,  too,  took  very 
kindly  to  the  babe,  and  applauded  her  son's 
conduct.  Indeed,  this  dear  old  lady  was  a 
true  Greek  mother,  which  is  only  another  way 
of  saying  that  her  boy  was  her  idol,  and  that 
anything  he  did  was  apt  to  appear  right  in 
her  eyes.  She  welcomed  Constantine  the 
more  kindly,  also,  because  she  saw  in  him 
an  able  ally  in  her  long-cherished  scheme 
of  making  Spiridon  give  up  the  sea  and 
settle  in  Poros.  For  this  reason  she  joined 
her  influence  with  that  of  the  priest  and  the 
matchmaker  Elene,  both  of  whom  desired  to 


62  Constantine 

see  the  young  man  married.  Many  times  was 
Elene's  crutch  heard  knocking  at  the  door, 
and  numerous  were  the  names  of  available 
damsels  whom  she  proposed.  Each  was  repre- 
sented as  possessing  peculiar  charms  of  the 
most  irresistible  nature,  and  the  old  woman 
argued  in  favour  of  all  with  untiring  volu- 
bility. Finally,  after  sifting  the  list  thor- 
oughly, Mother  Leonidas,  Elene,  and  the 
priest  settled  on  Loukia  Kastriotes  as  the 
most  suitable  candidate,  and  urged  her  upon 
Spiridon  with  such  combined  persistency  that 
he  consented. 

She  was  a  black-eyed  maiden  of  petite  fig- 
ure and  attractive  face.  Spiridon  objected 
that  her  tongue  was  sharp  and  her  character 
too  determined;  but  not  even  his  mother 
listened  to  him  in  this  particular,  for  is  it  not 
the  husband's  duty  to  exact  obedience  from 
the  wife  ?  Loukia  was  certainly  pretty  and 
vivacious,  and  her  proeka  was  equal  to  that  of 
any  girl  in  the  island.  So  the  family  of  Le- 
onidas made  preliminary  advances  to  the 
family  of  Kastriotes,  and  after  much  negoti- 
ating on  both  sides,  the  matter  was  settled. 
Spiridon  thereupon  visited  his  prospective 


Constantine  63 

bride,  carrying  her  a  pearl  necklace  and  a 
beautiful  hand-mirror  brought  from  Russia, 
the  like  of  which  had  never  been  seen  before 
in  Poros.  The  engagement  was  announced, 
and  the  day  was  fixed  for  the  celebration  of 
the  betrothal. 


Chapter  VI 

During  all  this  time  there  had  been  some- 
thing on  Spiridon's  mind.  There  was  a  cer- 
tain matter  concerning  which  he  desired  very 
much  to  inform  himself  without  exciting 
suspicion,  and  if  possible  without  assistance. 
While  he  was  perfectly  honest  in  his  demon- 
strations of  affection  for  the  son  of  his  late 
partner  and  friend,  yet  he  possessed  a  secret  in 
connection  with  the  little  one's  fortunes  which 
he  had  as  yet  breathed  to  no  one.  The  revela- 
tions made  to  him  by  the  dying  Loukas  were 
sacred  in  the  extreme,  and  the  last  request 
should  have  been  as  binding  as  a  will.  If 
Spiridon  had  made  a  clean  breast  to  his  fel- 
low-townsmen, and  asked  their  advice  and  aid 
in  carrying  out  the  desires  of  his  deceased 
partner,  he  would  have  been  saved  all  tempta- 
tion; but  he  had  within  him  the  guile  of  the 
Greek  nature  to  contend  against,  that  charac- 
teristic which  has  flowed  down  the  current  of 
64 


Constantine  65 

Greek  blood  from  the  times  of  the  Trojan 
horse  even  to  our  own  day.  He  did  not 
therefore  mention  this  thing  which  he  had  on 
his  mind  to  any  one,  but  lingered  on  at  Poros 
studying  the  problem  night  and  day.  What 
his  secret  was  will  be  better  understood  by 
those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  island 
itself. 

Sphseria,  on  which  the  village  of  Poros  is 
situated,  is  no  more  nor  less  than  a  small 
circular  rock.  The  town  is  now  supplied 
with  water  by  means  of  pipes  that  run  under 
the  sea  from  the  Peloponnesus  opposite,  but 
in  earlier  times  the  inhabitants  were  obliged 
to  rely  upon  cisterns,  capacious  caverns  hol- 
lowed out  in  the  solid  rock,  in  which  enough 
water  was  collected  during  the  long  rainy 
season,  for  drinking  and  cooking  purposes  the 
remainder  of  the  year.  These  reservoirs 
usually  consisted  of  a  large  pear-shaped  cavity, 
having  a  smaller  receptacle  at  the  bottom  for 
the  collection  of  impurities. 

Spiridon  was  haunted  night  and  day  by 
the  desire  to  drain  the  cistern  of  Loukas's 
house,  and  to  examine  the  smaller  cavity  at 
the  bottom.  He  went  secretly  and  tasted  the 


66  Constantine 

water,  but,  to  his  disgust,  found  it  remarkably 
clean  and  good.  Of  course,  as  it  was  then 
autumn,  he  might  have  had  an  excuse  for 
cleaning  the  cistern  in  preparation  for  the 
fresh  winter  rains.  But  he  wished  to  be  very 
sure  of  avoiding  suspicion,  so  he  slyly  poured 
several  pails  of  brackish  water  from  the  har- 
bour into  the  cistern,  as  well  as  a  quantity  of 
loose  rubbish.  The  next  day,  in  the  most 
natural  manner  possible,  he  complained  of 
the  water  at  his  own  house,  which  was  getting 
low,  and  went  for  a  pailful  to  Loukas's.  On 
his  way  back  to  his  own  door  he  called  the 
attention  of  several  villagers  to  the  queer 
taste  of  the  pail's  contents.  Old  Papas 
Antoni  and  Elene,  who  had  called  during  his 
absence,  both  declared  that  the  water  in 
Loukas's  cistern  had  gone  bad. 

"  I  think  of  cleaning  it  out,  putting  the 
house  in  repair,  and  renting  it,"  said  Spiri- 
don. 

"Are  you  crazy?"  asked  Elene.  "Who 
do  you  suppose  would  live  in  a  house  that 
has  proved  itself  unlucky  ? " 

"But  Papas  Antoni  would  bless  the 
place." 


Constantine  67 

"  Even  so,  it  will  be  a  long  time  before 
any  one  else  will  care  to  live  in  it." 

"At  all  events,"  persisted  Spiridon,  "  there 's 
no  harm  in  draining  the  cistern  and  letting 
it  fill  up  with  fresh  water." 

To  this  even  Elene  assented,  and  the  very 
next  morning  Spiridon  had  the  pump  un- 
screwed from  its  place  on  the  schooner's  deck, 
and  brought  on  shore.  A  hole  was  bored 
through  a  heavy  plank,  which  was  laid  over 
the  reservoir's  mouth.  The  pump  was  screwed 
to  the  plank,  the  long  handles  were  put  in 
place,  and  the  emptying  process  was  com- 
menced; a  goodly  portion  of  the  population 
coming  to  look  on  at  one  time  and  another 
during  the  day.  So  skilfully  did  Spiridon 
manage  the  work  that  the  valves  did  not 
suck  wind  till  about  dusk,  and  many  times 
did  he  speak  of  the  danger  of  going  down 
into  an  impure  cistern,  and  the  precautions 
necessary  to  be  taken. 

"To-morrow,"  he  said,  to  two  or  three  men 
who  were  peering  curiously  into  the  dark 
cavity, — "to-morrow  we'll  clean  out  the  bot- 
tom." 

About   ten   o'clock    that   night,    Spiridon 


68  Constantine 

took  a  small  boat  and  rowed  out  to  the 
schooner,  on  which  Barbandone  was  staying 
alone  —  the  rest  of  the  crew  being  tempora- 
rily discharged.  Barbandone  was  sitting  in 
the  cabin,  sheath-knife  in  hand,  carving  the 
head  of  an  olive-wood  walking-stick  into  the 
form  of  a  human  fist.  On  the  table  sat  a 
tumbler  of  olive-oil,  in  which  floated  a  bit  of 
cork  transfixed  by  a  tiny  burning  wick. 

"What's  running,  effendi  ?"  asked  the 
young  helmsman,  as  the  form  of  his  employer 
appeared  in  the  door.  Spiridon  seated  him- 
self in  the  only  other  chair  the  cabin  pos- 
sessed. 

"There 's  no  moon  to-night,"  said  he  irrel- 
evantly. 

"  When  the  moon  is  away,  the  stars  have  a 
better  chance  to  shine,"  replied  Barbandone, 
looking  shrewdly  at  the  other,  who  sat  with 
his  eyes  fixed  on  the  floor.  A  long  silence 
intervened,  during  which  Spiridon  cleared 
his  throat  several  times.  Finally  he  broke 
out  abruptly  in  an  unnatural  voice  : 

"  Barbandone,  you  're  in  love,  are  you 
not?" 

"  Is  that  what  your  honour  came  out  here 


Constantine  69 

to  speak  to  me  about  ?  "  asked  Barbandone, 
looking  up  quickly. 

"  We  '11  see.  But  I  know  all  about  it.  Lit- 
tle Sophia  Vlakos.  Ah  !  I  don't  blame  you. 
She  is  a  beauty,  with  her  black  eyes  and  red 
cheeks.  And  those  lips!  when  she  eats  cher- 
ries they  don't  stain  her  mouth.  She  loves 
you  too,  I  am  sure.  But  why  won't  her  par- 
ents let  her  marry  you  ?  You,  a  big,  fine 
fellow,  with  the  hearts  of  half  the  young  girls 
in  Andros  under  your  little  finger  !  " 

"  They  say  I  'm  too  poor  for  such  a  beauty. 
They  laugh  at  me  and  tell  me  that  when  I 
come  back  with  ten  thousand  drachmas  in  my 
belt  I  can  have  Sophia." 

"  You  shall  have  the  ten  thousand  drach- 
mas, Barbandone,"  said  Spiridon. 

"  What  ?  "  cried  the  young  man,  springing 
to  his  feet.  "  Oh!  tell  me  how  I  can  get  them. 
But  your  honour  is  making  fun  of  me.  You 
do  not  know  how  serious  a  matter  this  is  to 
me.  Those  ten  thousand  drachmas  are  the 
one  desire  of  my  life,  the  prayer  of  my  every 
breath.  I  would  go  down  into  hell  for  them; 
I  would  fight  vampires  for  them;  I  would 
swim  from  here  to  Stamboul  for  them.  Since 


70  Constantine 

old  Vlakos  told  me  that,  I  have  pinched 
every  pendare  as  though  it  were  my  soul's 
ransom.  It  is  two  years  now,  and  I  have 
only  five  hundred  drachmas.  Oh,  effendi! 
Think  of  it;  perhaps  Sophia  will  be  forced  to 
marry  some  one  else,  and  then — " 

"Steady,  steady,"  interrupted  Spiridon; 
"you  shall  have  the  money  for  half  an  hour's 
work." 

Barbandone  did  not  seem  for  the  moment 
to  comprehend  these  words.  He  gazed  at  his 
employer  stupidly  for  a  few  seconds  without 
speaking.  Suddenly  a  wave  of  intelligence 
passed  over  his  face,  and  a  frightened  look 
came  into  his  eyes. 

"  You  wish  me  to  commit  some  great  crime, 
effendi,  to  avenge  you  on  one  of  your  ene- 
mies, perhaps — "  said  he  in  a  despairing  tone. 

"  Bah,  bah,  bah,  bah,  man  !  What  enemies 
have  I  ?  I  merely  wish  you  to  help  me  in  a 
perfectly  honest  matter,  which  I  will  explain 
to  your  satisfaction  later,  and  to  keep  a 
secret." 

"  Then,"  exclaimed  Barbandone,  "  we  can- 
not commence  too  soon.  What  do  we  do 
first?  Behold,  I  am  ready." 


Constantine  71 

"First,"  replied  Spiridon,  "you  must  run 
over  with  me  to  that  rock  on  which  stands  the 
little  Church  of  the  Virgin,  and  swear  never 
to  reveal  the  thing  that  we  do  this  night." 

"  I  'm  afraid,  effendi,  the  thing  looks 
crooked.  One  is  not  paid  ten  thousand 
drachmas  every  day  for  doing  right." 

Spiridon  seized  a  little  gold  chain  about 
his  neck,  and  pulled  his  baptismal  cross  from 
his  bosom. 

"See  here,  Barbandone,"  said  he,  kissing 
the  cross,  "I  swear  to  you  by  my  hopes  of 
eternal  life,  that  it  is  n't  in  my  heart  to  do 
wrong  to  any  one.  I  have  important  business 
which  I  can  transact  better  alone  than  if  the 
whole  world  were  mixed  up  in  it.  If  I  choose 
to  pay  you  ten  thousand  drachmas  for  your 
assistance,  that 's  my  business.  Of  course, 
if  you  don't  want  the  money — " 

"  I  want  it;  God  knows  I  want  it !  " 

"  Come  along  then;  you  must  swear  before 
the  Virgin  to  secrecy,  because,  if  you  don't, 
Sophia  will  worm  the  matter  out  of  you,  and 
when  a  woman  knows  a  secret,  the  world 
knows  it." 

Thereupon  he  took  down  from  the  cabin 


72  Constantine 

wall  the  eikon  of  St.  Nicholas,  and  placing  it 
reverently  under  his  arm,  he  climbed  down 
into  the  boat,  followed  by  the  doubting  but 
eager  helmsman.  Silently  the  boat  crept 
through  the  darkness  to  the  island  rock  on 
which  stood  the  church.  While  Barbandone 
was  making  fast  the  boat,  Spiridon  hurried 
up  to  the  door  and  cautiously  pushed  it  open. 

"  Perhaps,"  thought  he.  "  some  solitary 
monk  may  have  taken  possession  and  be  sleep- 
ing on  the  floor." 

But  no,  the  place  was  empty.  He  took  a 
candle  from  his  pocket,  lit  it,  and  set  it  in 
drippings  from  its  own  wax  upon  the  shelf 
where  stood  the  Virgin's  picture  painted  on 
a  small  board.  Then  he  placed  St.  Nicholas 
on  the  shelf  by  the  side  of  the  Blessed  Mary, 
and  called  softly  to  Barbandone  to  come  in. 
The  latter  obeyed  tremblingly,  removing  his 
hat,  and  crossing  himself  three  times.  He 
was  greatly  overcome  with  the  solemnity  of 
the  hour  and  the  loneliness  of  the  place.  The 
two  sacred  images,  side  by  side  in  the  uncer- 
tain light,  seemed  to  look  into  his  very  soul. 
Besides,  the  church  was  a  very  holy  one,  as  the 
Virgin  had  been  known  to  manifest  herself 


Constantine  73 

miraculously  there.  Spiridon  turned  to  the 
two  images.  "  Kiss  them,"  said  he.  Barban- 
done  obeyed.  "Now  repeat  what  I  say." 
The  helmsman  repeated,  sentence  by  sentence, 
the  following  crude  oath,  which  he  remem- 
bered all  the  rest  of  his  life. 

"  I  call  upon  the  sacred  Virgin  Mother  of 
Christ,  and  the  most  holy  St.  Nicholas,  to 
witness  that  I  swear  never  to  tell  to  any  soul, 
living  or  dead,  on  sea  or  on  land,  the  things 
which  I  see,  hear,  and  do  this  night.  If  I  fail 
to  keep  this  oath,  may  I  be  unlucky  in  love 
and  in  hate.  May  my  race  be  servants  for- 
ever. May  my  children  all  be  born  girls,  and 
my  grandchildren  cripples.  May  my  father 
and  grandfather  be  tormented  in  Hell  forever. 
May  I  grow  old  in  poverty  and  be  despised  in 
my  age.  Finally,  may  I  die  without  the  Holy 
Sacrament,  and  be  buried  in  a  foreign  land." 

Barbandone  shuddered  when  he  had  fin- 
ished these  words. 

"  Provided  I  am  asked  to  do  nothing 
wrong,"  added  he,  feebly. 

"That  I  told  you  in  the  beginning  —  that's 
understood,"  replied  Spiridon.  "  Now  come, 
and  I  '11  show  you  what  we  have  to  do." 


74  Constantine 

Back  to  the  schooner,  accordingly,  the  two 
men  went.  A  coil  of  rope  was  laid  in  the  boat, 
two  buckets,  a  shovel,  and  a  lantern. 

"Where  are  we  to  go?"  asked  the  young 
helmsman. 

"To  Loukas's  house,"  replied  Spiridon; 
"  around  to  the  back  of  the  house,  and  up 
the  back  way." 

Twenty  minutes  more  found  them  at  the 
cistern.  No  one  was  stirring.  The  lights 
were  out  in  the  whole  town,  and  all  the  in- 
habitants were  sleeping.  The  lantern  was 
lighted  and  let  down  into  the  empty  cistern 
by  means  of  a  string.  The  buckets  were  fas- 
tened to  one  end  of  the  rope,  and  lowered 
after  it.  Then  the  rope  was  tied  around  the 
plank  to  which  the  pump  was  screwed,  and  the 
two  men  descended  hand  over  hand.  They 
took  the  more  solid  mud  from  the  reservoir 
at  the  bottom  of  the  cistern,  and  with  it 
formed  a  temporary  dam  on  the  sloping 
cement  floor.  Behind  this  they  piled  the 
refuse  from  the  reservoir,  Spiridon  handing 
the  buckets  up  and  Barbandone  emptying 
them.  Spiridon  worked  with  feverish  haste. 
In  a  remarkably  short  space  of  time  his  shovel 


Constantine  75 

scraped  on  the  bottom  of  the  shallow  recep- 
tacle. 

"There  's  nothing  there,  effendi,"  said  Bar- 
bandone,  holding  up  the  lantern  and  peering 
curiously  in.  Spiridon  made  no  reply,  but 
tapped  vigorously  on  the  side  of  the  recep- 
tacle with  the  handle  of  his  shovel.  The  wall 
emitted  a  dull  and  solid  sound.  He  tried 
the  opposite  side  with  the  same  result.  Then 
the  third,  which  gave  forth  a  hollow  sound 
startlingly  different  from  the  other  two. 

"  Here,  quick,"  he  shouted  to  Barbandone, 
"give  me  something  to  break  it  in  with." 

Barbandone  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  What 
shall  I  give  you,  effendi?  There  is  nothing 
here." 

Spiridon  sprang  out  of  the  hole.  "  Climb 
up  and  drop  down  one  of  the  pump  handles." 

Barbandone  went  up  the  rope  hand  over 
hand.  "  Look  out  below  there,"  he  cried,  a 
moment  later,  and  the  pump  handle  dropped 
into  the  hole  with  a  "chug  "  and  a  "  ching." 

Spiridon  sprang  in  after  it,  and  seizing  the 
pump  handle  as  if  it  were  a  crowbar,  had 
made  a  hole  through  the  thin  masonry  ere 
Barbandone  had  again  slid  down  the  rope.  A 


76  Constantine 

few  more  vigorous  blows,  and  that  side  of  the 
wall  had  fallen  in.  Spiridon  dropped  the 
pump  handle  and  reached  in  his  hand. 
"Hand  me  the  lantern  here,  quick!"  he 
shouted  to  Barbandone.  Holding  the  light 
in  his  left  hand,  he  grasped  some  object  with 
his  right,  and  tugged  violently,  but  without 
avail. 

"  Stop !  let  me  help,"  said  Barbandone, 
overpowered  by  curiosity.  Uniting  their  ef- 
forts, the  two  men  succeeded  in  dragging 
forth  what  proved  to  be  an  old-fashioned 
trunk  heavily  bound  with  iron  hoops.  Spiri- 
don pried  loose  the  hasp  with  the  blade  of 
the  shovel,  and  lifted  the  lid. 

"  Whose  money  is  this  ?  "  asked  Barban- 
done, huskily,  as  soon  as  he  recovered  his 
power  of  speech. 

"Ten  thousand  francs  of  it  are  yours,  if  we 
only  get  it  safely  on  board,"  replied  the  other. 

Gold  and  silver  bars,  strings  of  pearls  and 
amber  beads,  a  few  old  Greek  knives  and 
pistols  heavily  mounted  in  solid  silver,  a 
sword  with  a  jewelled  handle,  various  small 
boxes,  bags,  and  bundles,  and,  plainly  visible 
below  all  this,  a  great  heap  of  gold  and  silver 


Constantine  77 

coin.  That  is  what  the  trunk  contained. 
The  two  men  seized  the  iron  handles,  but 
could  not  lift  it.  Spiridon  spoke  quickly  and 
with  decision. 

"  I  will  go  above,"  said  he;  you  load  the 
stuff  into  the  bucket,  and  I  will  pull  it  up. 
Be  lively:  people  will  be  stirring  before  long." 

A  few  seconds  later  he  pulled  the  first 
bucketful  up,  and  laid  it  in  one  corner  of  the 
kitchen  while  Barbandone  was  preparing  the 
other.  They  made  short  work.  After  a  few 
excited  trips  to  the  kitchen  and  back,  Spiri- 
don was  surprised  to  find  the  pump  handle  at 
the  end  of  the  rope. 

"Hello!  what's  the  matter?"  he  called 
down  in  a  subdued  voice. 

"That's  all,  effendi;  I'm  sending  up  the 
things." 

Spiridon  immediately  slid  down  the  rope 
and  cast  a  searching  glance  about  him. 
"  Sure  you  haven't  left  anything  behind,  eh?" 
said  he,  eyeing  Barbandone  sharply.  With- 
out waiting  for  reply  he  took  up  the  shovel 
and  began  pushing  the  refuse  back  into  the 
hole,  Barbandone  assisting  with  one  of  the 
pails.  This  finished,  the  rope  was  passed 


78  Constantine 

through  the  handles  of  the  two  buckets  and 
that  of  the  shovel,  and  securely  tied  to  one 
end  of  the  trunk.  The  men  then  climbed 
out,  and  pulled  the  rope  up  after  them.  Ere 
morning  dawned,  the  treasure  had  been  car- 
ried in  the  buckets  to  the  little  boat,  restored 
to  the  trunk,  and  safely  locked  up  in  the  cap- 
tain's cabin  on  board  the  schooner. 

"This  money,"  said  Spiridon  piling  ten 
thousand  francs'  worth  of  Turkish  pounds 
upon  the  table,  "  was  partly  mine  and  partly 
Loukas's.  Now  half  of  it  belongs  to  the  boy, 
and  he  shall  have  his  share.  Loukas  didn  't 
trust  anybody  but  me,  and  before  he  died  he 
made  me  promise  I  'd  take  out  Maroula's  share 
privately,  and  do  the  best  I  could  with  it  for 
her.  Now  that  she 's  dead,  I  '11  do  the  best  I 
can  with  it  for  the  boy.  I  '11  educate  him, 
and  make  a  gentleman  of  him,  and  when  he 
comes  of  age  I  '11  give  him  back  his  money 
with  interest.  Here  's  a  gold  watch  for  your- 
self and  a  diamond  for  Sophia.  Are  you 
satisfied  ?  " 

Barbandone  thought  of  Sophia's  white 
throat  and  red  lips,  and  said  that  he  was. 

The  next  day,  in  the  presence  of  half  a 


Constantine  79 

dozen  small  boys  and  several  of  the  soberer 
citizens  of  Poros,  the  sediment  receptacle  in 
Loukas's  cistern  was  cleaned  out.  Barban- 
done  himself  went  down  and  filled  the 
buckets. 

"No  wonder  the  water  tasted  so  bad,"  said 
one  householder  to  another,  seeing  the  mud 
come  up. 

"  I  must  clean  out  my  cistern  before  the 
rains  set  in,"  remarked  another;  "for  my 
whole  family  will  be  sick." 

A  few  days  later  Spiridon  compromised 
with  old  Papas  Antoni,  Elene,  and  his 
mother,  on  the  understanding  that  he  was  to 
make  one  more  voyage,  after  which  he  would 
return,  sell  the  schooner,  and  marry  black- 
eyed  Loukia  Kastriotes.  All  this  he  did  ac- 
cording to  promise.  But  to  the  no  small 
surprise  of  the  Poriotes,  he  removed  soon 
after  his  marriage  to  Athens,  taking  with  him 
his  mother  and  little  Constantine,  as  well  as 
his  wife.  In  the  capital  city  he  bought  a  fine 
house  in  a  beautiful  garden,  and  hung  up  in 
his  bedroom  the  eikon  of  St.  Nicholas,  which 
had  brought  him  so  much  good  fortune  in 
The  Two  Brothers. 


8o  Constantine 

Here  he  lived  as  much  at  ease  as  is  possible 
for  a  man  who  is  rich,  and  who  has  married  a 
woman  with  black  eyes  and  a  determined 
character.  One  year  after  his  marriage  he 
became  the  father  of  a  girl  who  was  destined 
to  become  famous  for  beauty,  even  in  a  city 
where  beautiful  women  are  a  matter  of  course. 

Soon  after  this  event  his  mother  died,  thus 
severing  the  last  link  which  bound  him  to 
Poros,  the  island  which  he  always  referred  to, 
in  Greek  fashion,  as  "  My  native  land." 

Barbandone  married  his  sweetheart,  and  be- 
came a  prosperous  wine  merchant.  For  many 
years  his  conscience  was  troubled  by  a  bundle 
of  papers  hidden  in  his  house,  which  he  could 
not  read,  and  dared  not  show  to  any  one.  He 
had  taken  them  surreptitiously  from  the  trunk 
in  Loukas's  cistern,  and  had  put  them  in  his 
pocket  on  that  memorable  night. 


Chapter  VII 

"  What  delight !  O,  what  delight ! 

You  have  come,  O  swallow, 
On  your  wing  so  glossy  bright " — 

Sang  a  voice  in  a  garden.  It  was  a  high,  flat 
voice,  that  fell  very  distinctly  on  the  accented 
syllables,  and  evidently  belonged  to  a  little 
girl.  The  song,  of  which  we  have  translated 
the  first  few  words,  was  a  pretty  burst  of  en- 
thusiasm over  the  coming  of  the  swallow  in 
early  springtime.  It  was  written  in  a  lan- 
guage which  a  learned  college  professor  might 
not  have  understood,  unless  he  were  a  disci- 
ple of  the  great  Blackie  of  Edinburgh.  Yet 
the  singer  understood  the  song,  for  it  was  in 
the  language  which  she  had  learned  at  her 
mother's  knee,  and  talked  familiarly  with  her 
school-fellows  —  modern  Greek ;  a  tongue 
that  is  as  clearly  Greek  as  the  swallow  of 
to-day  is  a  descendant  of  the  swallow  of  the 
ancient  proverb. 


82  Constantine 

The  sound  of  the  word  almost  tells  its 
meaning.  It  suggests  the  swift,  graceful  flight 
of  the  swallow,  and,  if  the  word  is  prop- 
erly pronounced,  the  sudden  rush  of  his  wing 
as  he  passes  near. 

The  garden  was  surrounded  by  a  high  wall 
of  adhesive  mud,  so  that  curious  people  could 
not  see  in  from  the  street.  The  garden  was 
not  carpeted  with  green  grass,  but  possessed 
a  smooth  floor  of  hard  beaten  earth,  cleanly 
swept.  Here  and  there  within  the  enclosure 
were  several  tall  vases  in  which  grew  tropical 
plants,  and  a  number  of  small  flower-pots 
were  arranged  in  a  square.  On  the  wall  a 
few  blood-red  poppies  stood  up  straightly  on 
their  slender  stems  as  though  the  tiny  legions 
of  the  Spring  had  taken  the  place  by  assault 
and  set  their  banners  there.  A  pleasant  spot 
is  this  garden,  into  which  we  are  now  peep- 
ing, and  the  little  singer  has  reason  to  feel 
very  proud,  for  it  has  been  assigned  to  her  by 
her  father  as  her  own  special  haunt  and  play- 
ground. We  shall  therefore  name  the  place 
as  her  friends  do,  "  Aneza's  garden." 

But  we  have  dropped  into  the  present 
tense,  and  are  saying  "now,"  not  realizing 


Constantine  83 

for  the  moment  how  time  flies,  and  how  men 
and  women  change.  The  miniature  garden 
is  here  in  Athens  still,  and  every  April  the 
legions  of  the  springtime  set  their  poppy 
banners  on  the  wall.  Every  springtime,  too, 
the  swallow  comes,  and  the  almond-tree, 
dressed  all  in  white,  spreads  out  her  arms  to 
give  it  welcome,  as  says  the  song  which  little 
Aneza  used  to  sing  in  her  high,  flat  voice. 
Even  the  circular  seat  which  Spiridon  built 
round  the  tree,  and  on  which  she  used  to  sit, 
still  exists;  but  Aneza  herself  is  by  this  time 
an  old  woman,  and  has  children,  and  even 
grandchildren,  of  her  own.  King  George 
and  good  Queen  Olga  reign  now  in  the  big 
palace  at  Athens.  When  Aneza  was  a  little 
girl,  Otho  the  Bavarian  was  ruler  of  Greece 
—  an  impulsive,  visionary  man,  whom  the 
Greeks  drove  away,  but  for  whom  they  have 
a  lingering  affection. 

On  the  mud  wall  of  the  garden,  and  on  the 
two  gate-posts  at  that  end  of  the  house  which 
formed  a  portion  of  the  enclosure,  were  set 
numerous  flower-pots,  from  which  vines  trailed 
down,  looking  very  green  against  the  back- 
ground of  neatly  whitewashed  mud.  Besides 


84  Constantine 

the  almond  there  was  a  spreading  shade-tree, 
that  curled  up  its  leaves  every  night,  and 
opened  them  again  in  the  morning,  to  the  per- 
petual delight  and  wonder  of  Miss  Aneza. 
But  perhaps  the  most  pleasant  feature  of  this 
miniature  garden  was  its  retired  situation,  by 
which  it  escaped  the  clouds  of  dust  that  have 
gone  whirling  about  the  streets  of  Athens  from 
the  earliest  times  till  now.  It  was  cool  and 
shady  too  when  the  white  houses  and  the  white 
streets  of  the  city  glared  intolerably  in  the  sun. 

"  What  delight !  O,  what  delight !  " 
continued  the  careless  voice,  as  the  little  girl 
ran  from  one  flower-pot  to  another  with  a 
water-sprinkler. 

"  Anezaki,"  called  another  voice,  evidently 
that  of  a  boy.  The  girl  turned  round  once 
like  a  top,  whirling  the  sprinkler  about  her, 
like  those  toys  which  are  made  to  show  the 
effects  of  centrifugal  force.  Seeing  nobody, 
she  called  out,  "  O,  you  need  n't  try  to  fool 
me,  Mr.  Constantine;  I  can  see  you  behind 
the  post  there,"  at  which  a  sturdy  boy  of 
eight  advanced,  laughing  merrily. 

"  I  was  n't  behind  the  post,  and  I  did  fool 
you;  so  there,  now." 


Constantine  85 

"  I  don't  care,"  replied  the  girl,  a  rosy- 
cheeked,  black-eyed  maiden  of  six  summers; 
"I  can  beat  you  playing  mora,  anyhow." 

The  sprinkler  was  instantly  dropped,  for 
the  challenge  was  accepted,  and  for  several 
minutes  two  chubby  right  hands  were  open- 
ing and  closing  rapidly,  disclosing  a  different 
number  of  fingers  each  time,  while  their 
owners  shouted  "two,"  "four,"  "five," 
"eight,"  loud  enough  to  be  heard  a  block 
away.  But  Aneza,  though  very  bright  for  a 
girl  of  her  age,  continued  to  be  beaten  at  the 
ancient  game;  she  was  too  young  to  compre- 
hend numbers. 

"This  is  n't  any  fun,"  said  she;  "  let 's  play 
something  else." 

Just  then  String-Bean,  her  big  white  cat, 
appeared  on  the  top  of  the  wall,  slid  down  a 
rose-vine  and  walked  majestically  through 
the  garden. 

"  String-Bean !  String-Bean !  "  cried  Aneza; 
"  the  mean  old  thing,  she  knows  I  have  n't 
got  anything  for  her  to  eat;  besides,  she  is 
going  to  see  her  kitten." 

"  Has  n't  she  weaned  that  kitten  yet? " 
asked  Constantine.  "  It 's  about  time;  it 's 


86  Constantine 

big  enough  to  be  baptized."  Both  laughed 
heartily  at  the  thought.  Suddenly  Aneza 
jumped  up  and  down,  clapping  her  hands. 

"  I  know,  I  know,  I  know.     We  '11  baptize 
the  kitten;  I  '11  be  mamme"  (midwife). 
•   "I'll  be  koumbaros  then,"  said  Constan- 
tine, "and  name  the  child." 

"What '11  we  do  for  a  priest?"  inquired 
Aneza. 

"I  '11  tell  you,"  replied  the  ready  Constan- 
tine. "  I  '11  be  the  priest,  and  I  '11  announce 
that  I've  just  come  from  the  koumbaros' 
house;  that  he  's  sick;  but  that  this  baptism 
must  go  on,  for  this  child  might  get  the 
measles  and  die,  and  then  he  'd  stand  no  more 
chance  of  going  to  heaven  than  a  Turk." 

"  Oh,  won't  that  be  fun!"  cried  the  girl, 
her  big  eyes  dancing  with  delight.  "  I  '11 
steal  the  olive-oil  and  a  basin  out  of  the 
kitchen  now,  while  cook  is  taking  her  after- 
noon nap." 

The  boy  went  around  to  the  kitchen  door, 
while  the  girl  tiptoed  in,  handing  out  soon 
after  a  large  earthen  bowl,  and  a  tin  dish 
partly  filled  with  olive-oil.  These  Constan- 
tine carried  into  the  garden,  and  the  two  con- 


Constantine  87 

federates  filled  the  bowl  with  water.  The 
next  thing  in  order  was  to  bring  the  victim. 
Poor  String-Bean  was  found  in  the  store- 
room at  the  back  of  the  house,  teaching  her 
only  remaining  offspring  how  to  play.  Her 
family  had  consisted  of  five,  but  an  old  Herod 
of  a  tom-cat  belonging  next  door  had  rushed 
in  one  morning  during  String-Bean's  absence, 
and  torn  all  her  children  in  shreds  except 
one.  The  mother  returned  just  in  time  to 
attack  Herod  with  great  fierceness,  and  to 
save  one  child,  which  she  henceforth  guarded 
as  the  apple  of  her  eye.  Seeing  the  boy  and 
girl,  she  instinctively  felt  that  mischief  was  in 
the  air,  for  she  rubbed  against  their  legs,  and 
purred  noisily,  to  propitiate  them  if  possible. 

"What '11  we  call  it?"  whispered  Aneza, 
looking  at  the  cunning  little  animal,  which 
had  just  tried  to  put  its  paw  on  a  fly,  and 
stood  looking  wistfully  after  the  buzzing 
insect. 

"  Why,  it 's  the  image  of  old  Cinnamon, 
that  fell  in  the  quicklime  and  got  burned  to 
death.  Let's  name  it  Cinnamon,"  replied 
the  boy, 

"All  right,"  assented  his  companion;  "I  '11 


88  Constantine 

take  it  around  into  the  garden,  and  you 
walk  in  a  minute  afterwards,  and  pretend 
you're  a  papas,"  saying  which,  she  departed 
with  the  kitten,  closely  followed  by  the  anxious 
cat.  A  few  moments  later  Constantine  en- 
tered the  garden  with  a  slow  and  dignified 
step. 

"  Peace  be  unto  this  house,"  said  he;  "  we 
are  here  to  baptize  a  child  into  the  true 
Church  ;  but  there  are  no  candles.  Woman, 
where  are  the  candles?  " 

"  O,  sure  enough,"  replied  the  little 
mamme;  "  good  father,  do  you  hold  the  child 
a  moment  while  I  bring  them.  "  And  soon 
two  candles,  purloined  from  the  kitchen,  were 
handed  to  the  amateur  priest.  These  he  lit 
and  set  up  in  the  imaginary  church  —  one 
in  a  cleft  in  the  bark  of  a  tree,  the  other  in  a 
convenient  crutch  of  a  limb;  then  he  dipped 
his  finger  in  the  oil  and  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross  on  poor  pussy's  nose,  eyes,  and  ears  in 
succession,  saying  : 

"•  Cinnamon  String-Bean,  I  mark  thee  with 
the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  I  command  thee 
to  be  a  good  Christian."  Nor  was  the  bless- 
ing of  the  water  forgotten.  The  same  sacred 


Constantine  89 

sign  was  made  over  it  three  times,  both  with 
the  fingers  and  with  the  breath. 

"  Give  me  the  child,"  said  Constantine,  in 
an  awful  voice. 

Pussy  was  unwrapped  from  a  fold  of 
Aneza's  jacket,  and  held  out  at  arm's-length. 
Constantine  grabbed  the  oil-tin  and  emptied 
its  contents  over  the  victim. 

"  Cinnamon  String-Bean,"  he  continued, 
"  I  baptize  thee  in  the  name  of  the  Father, 
Son,  and  Holy  Ghost.  Amen."  And  down 
went  the  unfortunate  kitten  three  times  under 
the  water  in  the  earthen  basin.  When  it 
came  up  after  the  completion  of  the  ordeal, 
it  looked  so  funny,  and  struggled  so  franti- 
cally, that  Aneza  burst  out  laughing. 

"  Woman,"  said  the  priest  sternly,  "  where 
is  the  holy  garment  in  which  to  wrap  this 
child  ?  " 

"  Here  it  is,"  answered  the  woman,  pro- 
ducing one  of  cook's  clean,  white  aprons, 
which  was  immediately  wrapped  around  the 
miserable  kitten,  dripping  oil  and  water. 
Suddenly  the  thought  occurred  to  the  two 
children  that  no  incense  had  been  used. 
Aneza  therefore  proposed  to  tiptoe  into  the 


90  Constantine 

cook's  bedroom,  and  purloin  the  earthen  in- 
cense-cup from  the  altar  of  the  Virgin.  She 
was  afraid  to  go  alone  on  so  dangerous  a 
mission,  and  Constantine  again  accompanied 
her  as  far  as  the  kitchen  door,  leaving  the 
kitten  wrapped  up  in  the  apron.  The  cup 
was  taken,  also  a  little  pinch  of  incense-pow- 
der, and  the  two  conspirators  hurried  back  to 
the  garden,  intent  upon  devising  some  scheme 
for  burning  the  powder.  What  was  their  dis- 
gust, on  their  return,  to  see  the  old  cat  disap- 
pearing over  the  garden  wall,  holding  her 
newly  baptized  infant  in  her  mouth! 

"Here,  come  back,  you  heathen!"  screamed 
Aneza,  stamping  her  foot  ;  "  are  n't  you 
ashamed  to  act  that  way  ?  Come  back,  I 
say!" 

"What's  up  now  ?  "  cried  the  cook,  rushing 
into  the  garden,  and  picking  up  her  apron 
and  the  incense-cup.  "Holy  Virgin!  Never 
in  my  life  did  I  see  anything  like  this.  I  '11 
tell  the  mistress,  and  you  '11  both  eat  wood." 

"Don't,  don't,"  pleaded  the  little  priest, 
suddenly  changing  into  a  little  gentleman. 
"  It  was  all  my  fault.  I  took  your  things, 
and  I  did  it  all.  Aneza  only  looked  on." 


Constantine  9 1 

As  a  result  of  this  gentlemanly  falsehood, 
he  received  several  cuffs  on  the  ear,  after 
which  the  cook  waddled  off,  threatening  to 
report  the  matter  if  it  ever  occurred  again; 
for  she  was  a  fat,  good-natured  individual 
who  had  had  children  of  her  own. 

"  O  Constantine,"  exclaimed  the  little 
girl,  crossing  herself,  "didn't  you  tell  a 
whopper  !  " 

"  I  did  it,"  replied  the  whilom  priest,  "  be- 
cause no  gentleman  would  allow  a  lady  to  be 
whipped.  Besides,  are  you  not  Aneza,  and 
am  I  not  Constantine?  " 


Chapter  VIII 

Spiridon  had  been  about  thirty  when  he 
was  married  to  Loukia  Kastriotes,  and  as  that 
event  occurred  soon  after  the  baptism  of  his 
godson,  he  must  have  been  approaching 
thirty-eight  at  the  time  of  the  scene  narrated 
in  the  last  chapter.  His  union  with  the  black- 
eyed  Poriote  had  not  been  his  most  happy 
venture  in  life.  But  nothing  had  altered  his 
conduct  towards  Constantine,  not  even  the 
birth  of  little  Aneza,  so  named  in  honour  of 
her  maternal  grandmother.  The  two  chil- 
dren were  always  together,  and  passed  their 
childhood  in  loving,  innocent  comradeship. 
Constantine  was  a  fine  boy  from  the  start, 
and  the  passing  years  only  added  to  his 
sturdy  beauty.  Like  his  father  before  him, 
he  was  blonde,  with  hair  in  short  croppy 
curls,  and  a  face  like  that  of  Hermes.  His 
godfather  dressed  him  in  fustanellas,  and  de- 
lighted in  calling  him  "  My  Palikaraki." 
92 


Constantine  93 

We  have  said  that  Aneza  became  a  cele- 
brated beauty,  and,  like  most  southern  women, 
she  very  early  began  to  give  promise  of  love- 
liness. Even  as  a  child  of  ten,  there  was  a 
voluptuous  charm  about  her.  She  had  a  low, 
broad  forehead,  and  her  eyes  were  wide  apart, 
and  surmounted  by  long-arching  brows  that 
nearly  met  over  her  nose.  Her  cheeks  were 
quite  plump,  and  tapered  down  to  the  sweet- 
est chin  imaginable.  Her  lips  were  red  and 
full,  and  her  teeth,  when  she  laughed,  which 
was  often,  seemed  the  whitest  and  evenest 
teeth  that  ever  were.  Her  hair  was  luxuriant 
and  softly  glossy,  corresponding  in  colourwith 
her  eyes,  which  were  the  crowning  glory  of 
her  face.  As  the  skies  of  Greece  are  the  most 
lovely  in  the  world,  so  are  the  eyes  of  its 
people  unequalled  elsewhere.  In  children 
and  in  tender  youth  they  are  seen  in  their 
highest  perfection.  Aneza  had  glorious  eyes, 
large  and  limpid,  perfect  mirrors  of  her  pass- 
ing moods.  When  her  feelings  were  hurt, 
they  looked  like  the  eyes  of  a  wounded  animal; 
when  she  was  angry,  they  blazed  beautifully,  and 
when  she  was  pleased,  something  like  sunshine 
lit  up  and  danced  in  them,  and  then  died  out 


94  Constantine 

again.  Her  nose  came  straight  down  from 
her  forehead,  with  but  the  slightest  depression 
between  her  eyes,  while  her  nostrils  were  full 
and  not  too  thin.  One  can  gain  an  idea  of 
how  necessary  a  feature  a  good  nose  is  by 
wandering  among  the  museums  of  the  old 
world  which  contain  collections  of  Greek 
sculpture.  The  early  Christians,  in  their  zeal 
to  destroy  heathen  gods,  seem  to  have 
spent  much  of  their  time  running  about  with 
stones  and  hammers  pecking  off  the  noses 
of  the  divine  statuary  of  the  ancient  masters. 
How  a  religion  that  is  ennobling  and  spirit- 
ualizing in  its  tendencies  could  have  inspired 
such  vulgar  vandalism  is  as  hard  to  under- 
stand as  are  many  other  outrages  that  have 
been  perpetrated  in  the  name  of  Christianity. 

Anezawas  a  Greek  divinity  whose  nose  was 
in  perfect  repair  and  of  unquestionable  sym- 
metry. Her  complexion  was  dark,  but  the 
skin  was  so  soft  and  clear  that  the  vague  colour 
flushed  very  richly  under  it  at  the  least  ex- 
citement. 

Aneza  lived  in  a  large  house  situated  in 
a  park,  from  one  corner  of  which  her  own 
little  garden  had  been  walled  off.  In  the 


Constantine  95 

park  were  orange-trees  which  were  white  with 
fragrant  blossoms  in  the  spring,  and  whose 
boughs  were  laden  with  oranges  in  November 
and  December.  There  were  palms  whose 
long,  gracefully  curving  branches  languished 
outward  from  the  trunk  in  symmetrical  ar- 
rangement, and  other  palms  whose  tall  shafts 
bore  only  a  cluster  of  spiny  greenness  at  the 
top;  clambering  clematis  covered  one  whole 
end  of  the  house  with  bright  verdure  in  win- 
ter and  with  scented  snow  in  summer,  and 
luxuriant  rose-vines  climbed  by  its  side,  hang- 
ing  blood-red  and  yellow  roses  among  the 
snow.  Here  a  bower  had  been  constructed, 
under  which  the  family  dined  late  on  summer 
evenings  by  candle-light,  and  even  when  the 
nights  were  quite  chilly,  for  the  Greek  never 
stays  in  when  he  can  be  out  of  doors.  In 
front  of  the  house  stood  a  huge  cedar-tree, 
in  which  hundreds  of  cedar-birds  chattered, 
feasted,  and  fussed  all  winter,  beginning  their 
din  at  the  earliest  dawn  and  continuing  it 
through  the  day  until  darkness  set  in.  The 
house  itself  was  a  large  three-storied  struc- 
ture, with  very  thick  walls,  and  was  built,  like 
all  Athenian  dwellings,  of  mortar  and  stones 


96  Constantine 

of  irregular  shape.  On  the  outside  it  was 
whitewashed,  and,  where  it  faced  the  street, 
formed  one  of  a  hundred  other  buildings  just 
like  it. 

When  the  sun  shone  and  the  dust  was  dry, 
the  sidewalks  would  be  white  and  the  houses 
white,  making  all  the  vista  of  the  long 
monotonous  street  intolerable  to  the  eye. 

Within,  though  Kurios  Spiridon  Leonidas 
was  a  rich  man,  the  rooms  were  scantily  fur- 
nished. Over  the  door  was  an  archaic  slab 
of  Pentelic  marble,  bearing  a  partially  erased 
inscription  in  ancient  characters.  Had  Kurios 
Leonidas  been  able  to  read  the  slab  before  it 
was  put  into  place,  it  would  probably  have 
gone  into  the  lime-kiln  —  that  barbarous  and 
ignorant  monster  that  has  swallowed  up  so 
many  of  the  records  of  ancient  Greece  and  so 
much  of  the  heyday  of  human  achievement 
in  art.  For  the  queer  old  inscription  an- 
nounced that  the  building  which  it  adorned 
was  mortgaged  for  a  certain  sum,  and  it  tes- 
tified to  human  rapacity  and  human  suffering 
two  thousand  or  more  years  old;  for  it  had 
originally  been  built  into  the  wall  of  some 
ancient  Greek's  dwelling,  according  to  the 


Constantine  97 

custom  of  those  days.  Its  dim  and  difficult 
letters  no  longer  told  the  truth,  for  the  man 
who  used  to  read  them  with  so  much  shame 
and  worry  had  long  been  dust,  and  there  was 
no  mortgage  on  the  property  of  Kurios 
Leonidas. 

Just  above  the  slab  the  face  of  an  archaic 
head  of  Hermes  looked  forth,  with  that  inim- 
itable expression  of  wisdom,  youth,  and  ex- 
quisite beauty  which  the  mind  of  Praxiteles 
conceived  for  the  admiration  of  men  to  all 
time.  This  also  had  been  found  on  the 
premises  and  built  into  the  wall,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  almost  universal  custom  in 
modern  Greece. 

On  opening  the  big  iron  doors  you  came 
into  a  hall  with  a  mosaic  floor,  and  wide 
marble  staircase  leading  to  the  upper  regions. 
In  the  dining-room  was  a  large  table,  besides 
a  sufficient  number  of  chairs  of  crude  work- 
manship, and  in  this  room  was  hung,  high  up, 
the  family  Panageia,  a  picture  of  the  Blessed 
Mother  of  Christ,  in  a  square  silver  frame. 
The  face  looked  forth  from  an  opening  in  an 
ornamental  sheet  of  silver,  in  which  other 
apertures  were  cut  for  the  hands.  Below  the 


98  Constantine 

frame  hung  a  lantern  containing  a  small  glass 
of  olive-oil,  on  whose  surface  floated  a  bouget 
—  those  little  contrivances  that  burn  so  long, 
and  that  one  so  often  sees  in  the  dim  hall- 
ways of  small  European  hotels. 

The  kitchen  was  an  immense  room  with 
a  stone  floor.  In  one  corner  was  built  the 
range,  a  cube  of  masonry  on  the  top  of  which 
were  half  a  dozen  shallow  depressions.  In 
these,  when  cooking  was  in  process,  charcoal 
was  placed,  and  a  draught  was  secured  by 
means  of  small  tunnels  that  ran  down  and 
out  of  one  side  of  the  range.  The  boilers 
and  pots  were  set  on  the  fires,  and  the  kitchen- 
boy  stood  patiently  by  and  fanned  the  lower 
ends  of  the  tunnels  with  a  wing  or  short 
broom. 

Every  morning  Kurios  Leonidas,  rich  as 
he  was,  went  to  market  with  a  little  maid- 
servant carrying  a  basket.  He  bought  each 
item  of  the  day's  fare  himself,  and  gave 
minute  orders  as  to  the  cooking  of  the  din- 
ner. His  wife  never  went  into  the  kitchen, 
and  rarely  knew  what  was  coming  on  the 
table  until  she  sat  down  before  it. 

The  upper  story  of  the  house  was  as  barely 


Constantine  99 

furnished  as  the  lower.  In  the  large  recep- 
tion-room alone  was  there  anything  in  the 
nature  of  a  carpet.  The  floor  of  this  apart- 
ment was  partially  covered  by  a  Turkish  rug, 
which  the  master  had  brought  home  years 
before  on  his  return  from  a  trading  voyage 
in  The  Two  Brothers.  The  walls  were  high, 
and  a  few  crude  pictures  of  the  Virgin  and  of 
various  saints  hung  not  far  from  the  ceiling. 
The  most  gorgeously  framed  saint  in  the 
house  peered  benevolently  forth  from  a  gilded 
box  suspended  over  the  bed  of  Kurios  Leoni- 
das  himself.  This  was  St.  Nicholas,  the 
patron  deity  of  those  who  go  forth  upon  the 
great  sea  in  ships. 

There  were  no  fireplaces  or  stoves  any- 
where. The  Athenians  then  held  to  the  tra- 
dition, as  they  do  now,  that  they  lived  in  a 
tropical  climate.  When  Parnes  and  Hymet- 
tus  become  covered  with  snow,  and  the  cold 
wet  winds  howl  through  the  streets,  chilling 
one  to  the  marrow,  they  huddle  together  in 
their  cheerless  homes,  and  say,  "  What  an  ex- 
ceptional winter!  "  This  they  have  done  reg- 
ularly every  winter  from  time  immemorial. 
The  existence  of  foufous  and  mangals  in 


TOO  Constantine 

Athens — picturesque,  though  unsatisfactory 
for  heating  purposes  —  must  be  attributed  to 
the  prevalence  of  this  idea.  The  mangal  of 
Kurios  Leonidas  was  a  huge  bowl  of  ham- 
mered brass  set  upon  a  standard  of  the  same 
metal  about  a  foot  and  a  half  high.  This  re- 
ceptacle was  surmounted  by  a  dome-shaped 
cover,  also  of  beaten  brass,  ornamented  at 
the  top  with  a  bronze  eagle  spreading  its 
wings.  When  the  mangal  was  in  use  it  was 
filled  with  live  coals,  which  kept  red  for  some 
time.  Two  brass  handles  were  attached  to 
the  contrivance,  to  carry  it  where  needed.  As 
a  device  for  diffusing  heat,  it  was  not  a  great 
success,  if  viewed  by  modern  standards;  but 
was  regarded  as  invaluable  by  Kurios  Leoni- 
das, who  had  brought  it  all  the  way  from 
Smyrna.  In  its  reservoir  of  coals  he  could 
always  find  a  light  for  his  narghile,  a  huge 
pipe,  on  which  he  sucked  noisily  for  two  hours 
each  night  after  drinking  his  cup  of  black 
Turkish  coffee.  When  brightly  polished,  this 
queer  stove  was  a  very  gorgeous  affair. 

The  foufous  were  little  mangals  without 
covers.  They  were  made  of  black  sheet-iron, 
and  stood  on  four  legs.  They  were  used  for 


Constantine  101 

boiling  pots,  heating  flat-irons,  and  for  warm- 
ing the  servants'  toes  when  the  cold  became 
insufferable. 

We  have  seen  that  Kuria  Leonidas  took  no 
part  in  the  preparation  of  her  husband's  meals; 
neither  did  she  trouble  her  head  about  other 
household  cares.  And  why  should  she?  Had 
she  not  brought  her  husband  a  fine  proek,  or 
dot,  as  the  French  call  it  —  fifty  thousand 
drachmas  in  ready  money?  It  was  her  boast 
that  she  did  not  know  a  leg  of  lamb  from  a 
soup-bone,  and  could  not  boil  an  egg.  She 
was  no  cook  indeed!  Had  she  admitted  the 
least  knowledge  of  housewifely  wisdom,  her 
envious  friends  would  have  declared  that  she 
came  of  humble  origin,  and  had  been  obliged 
to  work  at  some  time  in  her  life.  She  would 
have  considered  this  a  greater  disgrace  than 
the  brand  of  crime  itself.  Perhaps  some  of 
the  gossips  might  have  hinted  that  she  had 
been  a  servant  in  her  youth!  Horrible!  The 
very  thought  was  enough  to  make  her  shud- 
der. 

On  the  windows  of  the  drawing-room  that 
looked  out  into  the  street,  long  slender  elbow- 
pillows  had  been  fitted.  On  these  Kuria 


IO2  Constantine 

Leonidas  would  rest  her  arms  for  hours  while 
she  peered  into  the  street,  chatting  with  her 
daughter  or  some  female  friend.  These  con- 
versations were  generally  the  reverse  of  edi- 
fying. They  usually  turned  on  the  character 
or  family  history  of  some  acquaintance,  and 
the  most  scandalous  surmises  were  advanced 
with  all  the  plausibility  of  truth.  The  simplest 
happenings  were  magnified  into  the  most  dis- 
graceful affairs.  Early  in  her  married  life 
Kuria  Leonidas  developed  into  a  creature 
differing  greatly  from  the  spirited,  though 
plump  and  pretty  Loukia  Kastriotes.  Pic- 
ture a  short  meagre  woman  with  big,  snap- 
ping black  eyes,  luxuriant  hair  of  the  same 
colour,  and  without  a  grey  thread  in  it.  Add 
to  these  features  thin  lips,  which  she  seemed 
to  have  some  difficulty  in  keeping  closed 
over  her  white  but  rather  prominent  teeth, 
a  loud  voice,  and  an  irascible  temper,  and 
you  have  a  fair  idea  of  the  lady  as  God  in 
His  wisdom  had  seen  fit  to  make  her.  The 
power  and  quality  of  her  voice  she  exhibited 
frequently  when  gossiping  with  occupants  of 
windows  across  the  way  or  at  a  considerable 
distance  down  the  street.  Several  of  her 


Constantine  103 

neighbours  were  endowed  by  nature  with 
similar  vocal  powers,  and  had  improved  the 
gift  by  continual  practice,  so  that  these  ladies 
had  established  a  primitive  telephone  system 
from  one  window  to  the  other,  in  which  the 
wire  was  quite  unnecessary.  It  was  truly  a 
convenient  arrangement  for  making  calls,  en- 
tirely obviating  the  necessity  of  dressing  and 
going  out. 

Although  Aneza's  mother  took  no  thought 
of  the  management  of  her  household,  she 
descended  occasionally  into  the  lower  regions 
and  gave  the  servants  a  voluble  and  high- 
pitched  tongue-lashing.  These  descents  were 
not  due  to  any  interest  she  took  in  culinary 
affairs,  but  were  attributable  directly  to  a 
psychological  cause.  The  wrath  which  was 
continually  gathering  in  her,  vented  itself 
periodically  in  storms  of  great  violence.  At 
such  times  the  lady  fairly  danced  in  her  rage 
and  flung  her  arms  about  in  many  nervous 
Greeky  gestures.  The  servants,  so  wise  in 
such  matters,  understood  the  cause  of  these 
thunderstorms,  and  kept  discreetly  out  of  the 
way  as  much  as  possible.  When  the  air  was 
clear,  everything  went  on  as  before,  until  the 


104  Constantine 

Kuria  found  her  nature  again  overcharged 
with  electricity. 

Spiridon  himself,  as  he  advanced  in  years, 
took  on  more  and  more  the  physical  charac- 
teristics of  a  Greek  of  the  best  type.  His 
stature  was  commanding,  his  eye  bright,  and 
his  complexion  florid.  Although  he  had  trav- 
elled in  many  countries,  and  seen  the  fashions 
of  the  principal  races  of  men,  he  adhered  to 
the  Greek  costume.  He  looked  very  pictu- 
resque in  the  voluminous  fustanellas,  while  the 
Byronic  collar  and  tight  leggings  became 
well  his  mighty  chest  and  sturdy  calves.  The 
sea  is  ever  the  mother  of  strong  old  men. 
Hearing  his  laugh,  like  the  roar  of  a  lion,  or 
feeling  the  grip  of  his  nervy  hand,  one  would 
have  thought,  "  Here  indeed  is  a  Greek  with- 
out guile."  There  are  those  in  Athens  to- 
day who  recall  the  uprightness  of  his  deal- 
ings with  his  fellow-citizens,  and  maintain 
that  his  intentions  were  righteous,  even 
towards  his  godson. 

Certain  it  is  that  he  always  treated  the  boy 
in  the  most  affectionate  manner,  and  that 
during  Spiridon's  life  not  even  the  Kuria 
dared  to  display  her  real  feelings  towards 


Constantine  105 

that  "young  beggar,"  as  she  called  Constan- 
tine under  her  breath,  and  whom  she  regarded 
as  her  daughter's  rival  in  Spiridon's  affec- 
tions. Perhaps,  she  thought,  the  boy  would 
even  rob  the  girl  of  a  portion  of  her  inheri- 
tance. 

"  Who  knows,"  she  would  ask  her  confi- 
dential friends,  "  to  what  length  my  husband's 
infatuation  may  carry  him?" 

His  childish  instinct  taught  Constantine 
very  early  to  turn  to  Spiridon  as  his  natural 
protector.  His  little  lips  learned  to  pro- 
nounce the  word  "  Noune  "  (godfather)  al- 
most as  soon  as  other  children  say  "  mamma." 
It  was  "  Noune"  "  here  and  "  Noune  "  there 
all  day  long,  much  to  Spiridon's  delight;  and 
when  the  latter  was  not  about  the  house, 
"  Where  's  nounos  now?  "  was  a  question  that 
must  be  answered  every  few  minutes.  When 
Constantine  reached  the  age  of  five  years  he 
had  already  developed  into  a  very  sturdy 
little  fellow;  so  manly  and  bright  did  he 
grow,  and  so  sweetly  his  character  unfolded 
from  day  to  day,  that  he  would  easily  have 
won  his  way  into  a  harder  heart  than  that  of 
his  godfather.  Almost  from  the  first  the 


106  Constantine 

boy  assumed  an  air  of  proprietorship  over 
Aneza,  and  of  protection,  comical  to  see. 
Very  early  he  showed  himself  an  instinctive 
gentleman.  When  the  pair  went  out  to  walk 
together  with  their  dada  (nurse),  Constantine 
would  run  and  gather  wild  poppies  or  anem- 
ones for  Aneza;  if  the  old  patriarch  of  a 
flock  of  goats  raised  his  bewhiskered  face  from 
the  pasturage,  and  looked  inquiringly  at  them, 
the  boy  would  step  boldly  to  the  front,  and 
cry:  "  Don't  be  afraid;  I  '11  protect  you." 

As  Aneza  grew  older,  her  dark  beauty  be- 
came the  talk  of  the  town,  and  people  often 
looked  back  at  her  admiringly  as  they  passed 
her  on  the  street.  Thus  she  became  vain, 
even  in  her  childhood,  for  a  female  of  the 
human  species  learns  that  she  is  beautiful 
early  in  life  if  such  be  the  fact,  and  then  all 
at  once  she  becomes  a  woman.  Unfortunately, 
beauty  can  even  be  vain  without  growing 
wearisome,  so  Aneza  grew  into  a  creature  of 
moods.  She  was  sweet  and  sunny  of  dis- 
position one  moment,  and  pursing  her  pretty 
lips  into  a  pout  the  next.  She  was  exacting 
with  her  parents  and  with  Constantine,  and 
flew  into  a  passion  or  a  sulk  if  her  slightest 


Constantine  107 

wish  were  not  gratified.  Through  it  all  Con- 
stantine treated  her  as  though  he  were  her 
natural  superior  in  strength  and  intellect,  and 
as  though  she  were  a  weaker  and  more  beau- 
tiful being  privileged  to  do  as  she  pleased. 
Aneza,  on  her  part,  admired  Constantine 
more  for  his  courage  than  for  any  other 
quality. 

One  first  of  May,  when  the  boy  was  ten  and 
the  girl  eight  years  of  age,  the  family  were 
returning  in  a  carriage  from  a  picnic  in  the 
country.  They  had  lunched  in  a  beautiful 
grove  above  the  town  of  Marousi,  and  were 
bringing  back  flowers  and  a  wreath  to  hang 
over  the  door;  a  tribute  to  that  sweet  goddess, 
Flora,  who  is  still  honoured,  though  a  thousand 
years  forgotten.  The  children,  finding  their 
limbs  cramped  in  the  carriage,  asked  per- 
mission to  run  by  the  wayside,  that  they  might 
pluck  the  blood-red  poppies  and  bunches  of 
fragrant  wild  thyme.  They  lingered  behind, 
unnoticed  of  the  others,  and  suddenly  two 
fierce  shepherd-dogs,  of  the  gaunt,  wolfish 
kind  so  common  in  Greece,  glided  from 
among  the  pines  and  came  snarling  towards 
them.  Aneza  was  too  frightened  even  to 


loS  Constantino 

scream.  She  dropped  her  bouquet,  and  stood 
helpless,  looking  with  blanched  face  at  the 
really  dangerous  animals. 

"Don't  be  afraid,  Anezaki,"  said  Con- 
stantine  stoutly,  "  I  'm  here  to  protect  you. 
I  '11  pitch  into  them,  and  you  run  and  cry 
'Help!'" 

Who  shall  say  that  the  very  blood  that 
flowed  in  the  veins  of  Leonidas  and  the 
Spartan  heroes  had  not  trickled  down  the 
ages  into  the  heart  of  this  young  Palikari? 
Picking  up  a  stick  he  advanced  on  the 
animals.  They  did  not  run,  but  stood  grin- 
ning with  white  teeth. 

"  Come  on,  you  brutes,"  he  cried,  bran- 
dishing his  club;  "I'm  no  girl — I'm  Con- 
stantine,  and  I  'm  not  afraid  of  you.  Do  you 
hear?  I  'm  not  afraid  of  you."  He  struck  a 
sharp  blow  at  one  of  them,  and,  backing 
against  an  olive-tree,  stood  on  the  defensive. 
The  savage  animals  kept  running  in  at  him, 
and  jumping  back  again,  snapping  at  his  legs. 
The  contest,  fortunately  for  Constantine,  was 
of  short  duration,  for  Aneza  had  in  the  mean 
time  found  her  voice,  and  was  running  and 
shrieking  with  all  the  force  of  a  very  excel- 


Constantine  109 

lent  pair  of  lungs.  Spiridon  looked  around, 
and  seeing  the  boy,  ran  to  his  assistance. 
Two  or  three  well-directed  stones  sent  the 
dogs  off  growling,  and  Spiridon  picked  Con- 
stantine up  and  carried  him  back  to  the  con- 
veyance. He  had  been  severely  bitten  on 
one  leg,  and  the  red  blood  began  to  show  in 
a  spreading  stain  on  his  white  leggings. 

"O,  why  didn't  you  let  me  alone?"  he 
cried.  "  I  'd  have  killed  them  both  if  you 
only  had  left  me  alone." 

"  My  Palikaraki,"  said  Spiridon  proudly, 
"the  cry  of  'The  Turk!'  will  never  be  a 
bugaboo  to  you." 


Chapter  IX 

By  the  time  Constantine  had  reached  his 
sixteenth  year  he  had  made  great  progress  in 
his  studies  at  the  Gymnasium  of  Athens.  He 
had  learned  to  write  fairly  good  modern 
Greek,  and  to  read  Xenophon  at  sight.  As  his 
mind  developed,  so  also  his  deep  religious 
character  grew  in  intensity.  In  the  creed  of  the 
Greek  Church  he  found  everything  necessary 
to  fulfil  his  higher  yearnings,  and  its  beauti- 
ful ceremonials  appealed  to  his  mystical  and 
poetic  nature.  A  Christian  in  the  best  sense 
of  the  term,  it  is  a  high  tribute  to  his  intel- 
lect that  he  soon  discredited  many  of  those 
superstitions  which  the  ignorant  of  all  nations 
attach  to  their  religions,  and  which  are  far 
from  wanting  among  the  Greek  pe'ople.  He 
and  Aneza  held  many  juvenile  discussions 
concerning  the  supernatural.  Wonder  not 
that  children  of  so  tender  an  age  should  con- 
verse on  such  a  subject,  for  here  is  ground  on 
no 


Constantine  1 1 1 

which  the  oldest  of  us  meet  as  children. 
Moreover,  the  observance  of  religious  form 
cuts  a  larger  figure  in  Greek  life  than  in  that 
of  any  other  country.  Every  day  in  the  year 
is  consecrated  to  some  saint  or  other,  while 
fast  and  feast  days  follow  each  other  with  be- 
wildering frequency.  Amusements  so  com- 
mon in  Europe  and  America  are  almost 
unknown  in  Greece.  This  deficiency  is  sup- 
plied to  a  great  extent  by  the  theatrical 
ceremonials  of  the  Church.  The  Greek  nation 
is,  and  always  has  been,  the  Greek  religion. 
While  Constantine's  mind  seized  instinctively 
the  kernel  of  truth,  Aneza's  found  its  natural 
food  in  superstition.  She  had,  for  one  thing, 
a  more  than  wholesome  fear  of  the  Father  of 
Lies,  and  always  referred  to  him  by  the  pe- 
riphrasis, "The-go-away-from-here."  If  she 
heard  any  one  say  the  word  "  devil,"  she 
hastily  crossed  herself;  for  she  believed  that 
the  evil  one  smiled  whenever  his  name  was 
pronounced,  regarding  the  circumstance  as 
evidence  of  his  popularity  on  earth. 

She  also  believed  that  each  house  had  its 
"  iskios,"  or  element,  which  became  angry  if 
left  to  its  own  devices,  and  manifested  its 


H2  Constantine 

presence  at  night  by  uncanny  noises.  She 
had  even  heard  of  cases  where  people  had 
seen  the  "  iskios,"  and  had  suddenly  dropped 
dead.  The  only  way,  according  to  Aneza, 
to  rid  the  house  of  this  unwelcome  presence 
was  to  call  in  the  priest  to  say  a  prayer  and 
sprinkle  the  rooms  with  holy  water.  When 
the  "  iskios "  was  tranquil,  Aneza  said  that 
the  house  was  "light ";  when  angry,  "  heavy." 
She  also  believed  that  it  was  good  to  have  a 
rooster  about  the  premises,  as  the  spirit  might 
go  into  the  body  of  this  fowl,  as  of  yore  the 
devils  took  refuge  in  swine.  Aneza  received 
all  this  curious  lore  from  her  fat  friend  and 
confidant,  the  cook  —  a  native  of  the  Isle  of 
Andros.  Spiridonhad  secured  this  domestic 
from  Andros,  that  island  being  celebrated  for 
its  excellent  servants,  especially  cooks. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  each  island  is  fa- 
mous in  some  one  particular.  Tenos  sup- 
plies the  best  nurses;  Chios,  the  best  mastic; 
Hydra,  the  best  sailors;  Naxos,  the  shrewdest 
rogues,  etc. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  Christian  priests 
were  found  willing  to  connive  at  the  laying 
of  "  spooks  ";  but  there  are  two  sides  even  to 


Constantine  113 

this  question.  Perhaps  it  is  well  to  teach  the 
ignorant  to  seek  Divine  protection  against 
imaginary  dangers,  and,  for  that  matter,  the 
wisest  of  us  do  not  always  distinguish  be- 
tween "spooks"  and  realities. 

Constantine,  among  other  things,  did  not 
believe  in  the"iskios";  and  he  usually  re- 
ferred to  the  Devil  without  circumlocution. 
One  day  he  told  Aneza  that  he  was  not  afraid 
of  the  Devil,  because  God  was  stronger  than 
the  evil  spirit,  and  would  not  allow  him  to 
hurt  a  good  Christian. 

"  As  for  the  '  iskios,'  "  said  he,  "  that 's  all 
nonsense,  and  my  teacher  says  it 's  the  priest's 
duty  to  tell  cook  so.  If  he  does  n't,  then  it 's 
because  he  's  afraid  he  won't  get  another  two 
drachmas  for  blessing  the  house." 

It  is  the  commonest  thing  in  the  world  for 
Greek  children  to  engage  in  protracted  dis- 
cussions on  political  or  religious  subjects, 
using  words  and  sentences  whose  length 
would  cause  Macaulay  to  turn  green  with 
envy.  Such  a  discussion  now  arose  between 
Aneza  and  Constantine.  The  former,  becom- 
ing worsted,  finally  took  refuge  in  a  fit  of 
sulks. 


114  Constantine 

"You  're  a  heathen!  "  said  she. 

"  And  you  're  a  silly  girl,"  responded  Con- 
stantine. "  You  ought  to  learn  more  letters 
and  less  nonsense." 

"  O,  you  think  because  you  can  read  and 
write  better  than  I,  that  you  're  very  smart, 
don't  you,  Mr.  Bladderhead?  I  '11  never 
speak  to  you  again,  long  's  I  live;  so  there, 
now,"  and  Aneza  ran  off  crying. 


Chapter  X 

Aneza  pouted  all  day,  and  broke  out  with 
the  subject  that  night  at  the  dinner  table. 
"  What  do  you  think?  "  she  exclaimed  to  her 
father  and  mother,  her  glorious  eyes  opened 
wide  with  excitement;  "  Constantine  says  he 
is  n't  afraid  of  the  '  Old-go-away-from-here,' 
and  he  does  n't  believe  such  a  thing  as  an 
*  iskios  '  exists  at  all."  Here  she  crossed  her- 
self and  paused,  awaiting  the  effect  produced 
by  this  extraordinary  statement. 

"  Holy  Virgin!"  exclaimed  her  mother. 

"  And  he  says  that  the  priest  does  n't  be- 
lieve in  the  '  iskios '  either,  but  only  blesses 
the  house  for  the  two  drachmas  he  gets." 

"Holy  Virgin!"  repeated  her  mother, 
devoutly  crossing  herself  in  turn.  "  Don't  you 
see,  Spiridon,  what  comes  of  sending  that  boy 
so  many  years  to  school,  where  he  gets  his 
head  filled  with  new-fangled  ideas?  How 
does  it  come  that  you,  a  good  Christian, 

"5 


n6  Constantine 

should  permit  such  things?  Who  knows 
what  misfortune  may  befall  us?" 

But  Spiridon  was  discussing  a  particularly 
good  dolma  (chopped  meat,  mixed  with  rice 
and  garlic,  wrapped  in  cabbage  leaves  and 
boiled),  a  dish  of  which  he  was  extremely  fond, 
and  therefore  found  it  difficult  to  become  in- 
terested in  any  less  material  subject.  It  was 
hard  to  stop  the  flow  of  his  wife's  eloquence 
when  once  she  had  gotten  fully  under  way,  so 
he  merely  exclaimed,  "  Boh,  boh,  boh,"  occa- 
sionally, in  a  conciliatory  tone,  devouring 
meanwhile  dolma  after  dolma  with  an  equa- 
nimity which  exasperated  the  lady  to  still 
greater  fluency. 

"  Did  n't  Mrs.  Condoyannes,  who  sleeps  up- 
stairs with  her  husband  and  two  children,  in 
their  house,  in  the  same  room,  in  another  bed, 
hear  some  one  with  heavy  boots  on  walk  by 
her  door  every  night  slowly,  slowly;  then 
creak!  creak!  down  the  stairs;  and  then  slowly, 
slowly,  the  whole  length  of  the  hall  below; 
and  then  seem  to  go  right  on  out  through  the 
end  of  the  house?  And  did  n't  her  husband, 
who  is  a  brave  man,  go  out  into  the  hall  with 
a  light  and  a  gun  two  or  three  times,  and 


Constantine  117 

though  he  still  heard  the  steps,  never  a  thing 
could  he  see?" 

"  Boh,  boh,  boh,"  said  Spiridon,  taking 
another  dolma. 

"And  then  they  called  in  a  priest,  and  had 
the  house  blessed,  and  not  a  sound  has  been 
heard  since.  And  no  wonder,  for  a  foreigner, 
a  German,  had  been  living  there  for  three 
years  before  the  Condoyannes  moved  in,  and 
not  a  drop  of  holy  water  had  been  scattered 
about  the  place  in  all  that  time.  And  did  not 
Mrs.  Kallioropoulos,who  sleeps  downstairs  in 
her  house,  hear  something  go  kruk!  kruk! 
overhead  every  night?  and  did  she  not  once 
open  the  door  softly,  softly,  and  peep  out, 
and  there,  standing  at  the  head  of  the  first 
flight  of  steps,  was  a  tall,  white  thing?" 

"  Holy  Virgin!  "  whispered  Aneza,  crossing 
herself  hurriedly. 

Spiridon  helped  himself  to  another  dolma. 

"I  tell  you,  she  closed  the  door — bang! 
— and  locked  it,  and  the  next  morning  called 
the  good  father  in  very  early.  You  will  no 
doubt  say  that  all  this  is  mere  superstition. 
Indeed,"  she  continued,  with  a  snort  of  indig- 
nation, though  Spiridon  had  not  said  a  word, 


1 1 8  Constantine 

"  you  will  be  saying  next  that  the  very  mir- 
acles are  superstitions.  Does  not  all  the  world 
know  how  once  your  ship  sprung  a  leak — ?  " 

"  But  I  said  nothing  about  superstitions, 
mother,"  interrupted  Spiridon  mildly.  "  My, 
but  these  are  good  dolmathes!  " 

"  No,  but  you  thought  it — don't  tell  me  you 
did  n't  think  it,  and  you  encourage  this  boy  in 
his  blasphemous  ideas,  which  is  worse.  Did  n't 
your  ship  once  spring  a  leak,  and  the  water 
run  into  the  hold  faster  than  the  men  could 
bail  it  out,  and  when  you  thought  you  were 
sinking  you  cried,  'Holy  Virgin,  help  us!' 
and  all  at  once  the  water  ceased  to  come  in, 
and  soon  the  men  had  the  ship  dry,  and  then 
what  did  you  find?  Why,  that  a  mullet  had 
darted  into  the  hole  and  stopped  it  up  com- 
pletely. And  who  but  Spiridon  Leonidas 
hung  up  a  silver  mullet  in  the  Church  of  Our 
Lady  of  Miracles  at  Tenos?  And  there  it  hangs 
to  this  day.  And  who  was  with  you  but  the 
father  of  this  very  boy?  And  a  good  Chris- 
tian he  was,  too,  as  all  the  world  knows.  What 
would  he  think  if  he  knew  his  son  was  being 
brought  up  a  heathen?  And  what  did  you 
tell  us  all  last  summer,  on  your  return  from 


Constantine  119 

your  pilgrimage  to  this  same  Tenos?  Did 
not  a  man  of  Syra  come  there  to  hang  up  in 
the  church  a  silver  image  of  his  baby?  He 
had  been  making  loukoumi,  and  the  little  one 
had  fallen  into  a  kettle  of  boiling  sugar;  but 
he  called  on  the  Virgin,  and  the  sugar  cooled 
instantly,  and  there  lay  the  babe  unharmed, 
cooing  and  laughing  as  though  it  were  in  its 
own  cradle.  You  and  this  educated  young 
man  of  yours  will  be  denying  the  miracles  of 
the  Virgin  next,  I  fear.  Surely,  Callirrhoe  is 
right,  't  is  high  time  indeed  to  have  the  house 
blessed,  now  that  we  have  two  heathens  in 
it!" 

That  evening,  while  Spiridon  was  seated  by 
the  mangali,  puffing  away  peacefully  at  his 
narghile,  he  found  himself  alone  with  Con- 
stantine a  few  moments. 

"  Well,  my  boy,"  said  he,  "  what  a  tempest 
you  brought  about  my  ears  with  your  new- 
fangled notions.  Are  you  then  really  be- 
coming such  a  heathen?" 

"Why,  no,  Noune","  replied  the  boy;  "I 
don't  believe  I  'm  becoming  a  heathen  at  all. 
I  certainly  believe  in  the  miracles  of  the  Holy 
Virgin." 


Constantine 

"So  do  I,  so  do  I!"  ejaculated  the  other 
heartily;  "  when  did  I  ever  say  the  contrary? 
But  I  've  been  long  on  sea,  my  lad,  and  long 
on  land,  and  I  have  learned  there  are  two 
things  which  human  power  cannot  control — 
one  is  the  wind,  and  the  other  a  woman's 
tongue." 


Chapter  XI 

Constantine  was  of  so  kindly  and  ingenuous 
a  nature  that  he  could  not  endure  the  thought 
that  any  one  whom  he  cared  for  was  angry 
with  him,  and  Aneza's  displeasure  caused  him 
peculiar  discomfort.  Why,  he  could  not  un- 
derstand. Finding  her  still  sulking,  despite 
all  his  efforts  to  propitiate  her,  he  comforted 
himself  with  the  thought  that  Easter  Day  was 
drawing  near,  when  Christian  brothers  and 
sisters  exchanged  the  kiss  of  holy  love  and 
all  the  world  makes  peace. 

On  the  evening  of  the  Great  Saturday,  Con- 
stantine went  into  the  church  and  listened 
faithfully  to  the  long  Easter  service.  He  did 
this,  partly  because  he  understood  the  words, 
and  they  seemed  very  beautiful  to  him,  and 
partly  because  he  hoped  Aneza  would  see  him 
when  he  lighted  his  candle  with  all  the  others, 
and  would  notice  how  devout  he  was.  At  a 
quarter  to  twelve  the  worshippers  within  the 
121 


122  Constantine 

building  set  their  candles  burning  simulta- 
neously, and,  as  if  by  magic,  the  nave  and 
pillared  aisles  glowed  with  a  soft  radiance. 
The  golden  frames  of  the  sacred  images,  the 
innumerable  candlesticks,  the  splendid  figure 
of  the  Metropolitan,  reflected  back  the  yellow 
rays.  The  painted  saints  upon  the  walls  be- 
came distinguishable,  —  venerable  old  men 
with  long  beards,  and  chubby-faced  women 
with  conventional  halos  about  their  heads, — 
while  the  personages  of  the  gigantic  tableau 
bended  on  the  dome  high  above  looked  dimly 
down,  as  though  from  that  heaven  of  shadows 
which  too  often  exists  in  the  doubting  minds 
of  men. 

Constantine  looked  eagerly  about  him,  and 
his  disappointment  was  great  at  not  being 
able  to  see  Aneza  anywhere.  Then  the  pro- 
cession with  the  square  banners,  the  cross,  and 
the  holy  symbols  held  aloft,  filed  slowly  down 
the  main  aisle  and  into  the  open  air.  Con- 
stantine followed  with  the  others,  his  candle 
still  burning,  and  a  beautiful  sight  met  his 
gaze  without.  The  square  in  front  of  the 
building  was  ablaze  with  thousands  of  lighted 
candles,  twinkling  bewilderingly,  as  though 


Constantine  123 

a  patch  of  heaven,  where  stars  are  thickest, 
had  fallen  to  earth,  and  the  streets  and  lanes 
leading  off  from  the  central  throng  seemed 
so  many  milky  ways,  more  sparsely  bestarred 
as  the  distance  increased,  and  finally  dying 
out  in  space  and  limitless  darkness. 

A  temporary  platform  had  been  erected 
in  front  of  the  sacred  edifice,  and  there  the 
principal  personages  of  the  State  and  of 
the  Civic  Government  were  waiting.  Among 
these,  after  majestically  mounting  the  steps, 
the  reverend  Metropolitan  took  his  place,  and 
continued  the  reading  of  the  service.  Finally 
he  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  about  over  the 
expectant  throng,  and  a  great  hush  fell,  in 
the  midst  of  which  his  voice  could  be  heard, 
solemn,  distinct,  exultant,  like  the  voice  of 
some  prophet  of  old. 

He  proclaimed  in  the  beautiful  language 
of  Greece,  "Christ  is  arisen!"  No  mere 
prophecy  now,  but  the  declaration  of  that 
sublime  fulfilment  for  which  the  ages  had 
awaited.  As  he  said  the  word,  every  man, 
woman,  and  child  replied,  as  with  one  voice, 
"Indeed  He  is  arisen!"  And  all  the  myriad 
stars  were  raised  and  lowered  three  times  in 


124  Constantine 

unison  —  once  for  the  Father,  once  for  the 
Son,  and  once  for  the  Holy  Ghost.  Then 
immediately  the  little  patch  of  heaven,  and 
the  milky  ways,  scattered  through  space. 
Soon,  in  the  principal  thoroughfares,  in  the 
byways,  in  the  distant  streets  leading  up  to 
the  Hill  of  Lycabettus  and  the  Acropolis, 
could  be  seen  wandering  stars,  either  singly 
or  in  groups,  and  when  one  Christian  met 
another  the  kiss  of  peace  was  given,  and  the 
salutation  was  heard:  "Christ  is  arisen!" 
followed  by  the  reply,  "  Indeed  He  is,  my 
brother,"  or  "Indeed  He  is,  my  sister!" 

Such  of  the  worshippers  as  were  most 
devout  returned  into  the  church,  where  they 
partook  of  communion,  and  listened  to  a 
continuation  of  the  services,  even  till  day- 
light. These  Constantine  followed,  expecting 
to  find  Aneza  and  the  remainder  of  the  family 
within.  What  was  his  disappointment  to  see 
only  the  Kuria  there,  in  company  with  several 
other  ladies.  The  object  of  his  search  had 
evidently  gone  forth  with  her  father  to  ex- 
change salutations  with  such  friends  as  they 
might  meet.  Constantine  started  on  a  vague 
tramp  about  the  town,  in  hopes  of  meeting 


Constantine  125 

Aneza,  still  carrying  his  candle,  whose  feeble 
light  assisted  his  footsteps  in  the  shadow  of 
buildings,  or  when  the  moon  went  under  a 
cloud.  Street  lamps  were  few  and  far  between, 
and  consisted  only  of  lanterns  held  out  from 
the  corners  of  houses  by  long  arms  of  iron. 
Lamps  were  supplied  with  olive  oil,  and  gave 
forth  but  a  dim  and  smoky  glimmer. 

Many  people  greeted  Constantine,  and  he 
replied  as  a  good  Christian  should,  but  with- 
out pausing  for  further  conversation.  As  he 
went  on,  the  desire  to  see  Aneza  increased 
within  him  and  hurried  his  footsteps.  First 
love,  that  wine  of  Adam's  vintage,  and  old  as 
the  world  itself,  was  working  in  his  young 
veins.  He  was  like  one  who  has  drunk  of 
some  rare  liquor,  which  he  did  not  feel  at  the 
moment,  but  whose  influence  suddenly  thrilled 
through  him  afterwards.  He  had  kissed 
Aneza  many  times,  but  never  as  he  would  kiss 
her  now. 

Finally  he  beheld  her  standing  at  a  street 
corner  with  her  father  and  a  number  of 
friends.  The  group  were  holding  lighted 
candles  and  chatting  together  gaily.  She 
was  above  him,  for  that  part  of  the  city  lay 


126  Constantine 

on  the  side  of  a  hill.  At  the  moment  of 
recognizing  her  among  the  group,  a  strange 
thing  happened  to  Constantine.  His  heart 
suddenly  stopped  beating,  and  a  pain  shot 
through  it  as  at  the  thrust  of  a  keen  knife. 
He  became  faint  for  an  instant,  and  felt  him- 
self reeling  as  one  wounded  to  the  death. 
Then  he  recovered  himself  with  a  gasp,  and 
knew  that  he  loved  Aneza. 

He  remembered  afterwards  that  her  posi- 
tion above  him  seemed  to  give  her  a  sort  of 
spiritual  exaltation. 

One  moment,  and  all  the  world  was 
changed  for  him,  and  he  comprehended  his 
new  world  at  a  glance — something  as  a  life 
history  flashes  through  the  brain  of  a  dying 
man.  In  the  near  deep  sky  of  Attica  the 
moon  was  riding  as  gloriously  as  when  in  old 
days  its  splendour  begot  worship  in  the  souls 
of  men.  The  great  golden  orb  was  low 
down  over  Hymettus,  which  lay  distinct  as  a 
silhouette,  and  straight  against  the  lighter 
background  of  sky.  All  the  heavens  were 
full  of  great  white  stars  that  shook  and 
trembled  like  priceless  diamonds  at  a  prince's 
throat,  or  dewdrops  that  blaze  into  sudden 


Constantine  127 

beauty  at  the  coming  of  the  morning  sun. 
All  was  familiar,  and  yet  everything  seemed 
different. 

He  could  plainly  see  Aneza's  pretty  little 
slippers  embroidered  in  gold,  and  her  dainty 
ankles  beneath  the  short  skirt.  She  wore  a 
jacket,  also  embroidered,  and  a  fez  like  her 
father's,  with  a  tassel  that  drooped  over  one 
shoulder  as  low  as  her  waist.  As  she  held 
aloft  her  candle,  her  immense  open  sleeve, 
filled  with  white  lace,  fell  away  from  the 
plump  arm.  Constantine  thought  of  the 
dimple  at  her  elbow,  and  knew  that  he  could 
have  seen  it  had  he  been  nearer.  About  her 
neck  was  a  double  string  of  pearls,  that 
gleamed  in  the  moonlight,  and  intensified 
the  dark  loveliness  of  her  face.  Finally  the 
others  of  the  party  went  their -way,  leaving 
Aneza  and  her  father  standing  alone. 

While  they  gazed  about  them  for  a 
moment,  as  though  undecided  where  to  go 
next,  Constantine  came  up,  and  kissing  his 
godfather  on  the  lips,  said:  "Christ  is 
arisen,  Noune,"  and  the  older  man  replied, 
"  Indeed  He  is  arisen,  my  son."  Then  he 
kissed  Aneza,  stammering,  "  Christ  is  arisen, 


128  Constantine 

my  sister,"  and  she  started,  and,  looking  shyly 
at  him,  whispered  demurely,  "  Indeed  He  is 
arisen,  my  brother." 

"  Well,  my  boy,"  cried  Spiridon  heartily, 
"  so  you  have  been  prowling  around  alone, 
have  you?  This  is  fortunate;  now  that  we  're 
all  together,  we  '11  go  home.  Our  candles 
are  just  about  long  enough  to  last  us  till  we 
get  there." 

They  walked  in  silence  together  through 
the  narrow  and  crooked  streets,  till  finally,  at 
a  crossing,  Spiridon  stopped  suddenly,  and 
asked,  "  Where  did  you  leave  your  mother? 
Did  she  go  home,  or  is  she  still  at  the  church?  " 
Being  informed  that  she  was  at  the  latter 
place,  he  directed  Constantine,  to  his  un- 
speakable joy,  to  take  Aneza  home,  adding, 
"  I  '11  go  over  to  the  church  and  bring  your 
mother." 

The  young  people  walked  on  alone  for  a 
while  in  silence,  holding  their  candles  straight 
before  them,  and  watching  intently  the  flicker- 
ing flames  as  though  fascinated.  Then,  with- 
out a  word  of  warning,  Constantine  blew  them 
both  out,  and  putting  his  arm  about  Aneza, 
held  her  yielding  body  closely  to  his  side. 


Constantine  129 

Thus  they  went  on  until  they  had  passed 
through  the  iron  gate  of  their  own  yard. 
Down  the  crunching  gravel  walk  they  went, 
where  the  white  moonlight  sifted  through  trees 
and  vines.  Beneath  their  feet  lay  leaves  and 
branches  in  fantastic  tracery,  like  the  designs 
of  some  barbaric  carpet,  but  when  the  great 
pine  tree  threw  its  cloak  of  fragrant  shade 
about  them,  Constantine  pressed  Aneza  to  his 
breast,  and  called  her  many  sweet  Romaic  love 
names.  "  My  soul !  "  he  whispered,  "  my  light ! 
my  life!  my  eyes!  my  heart!  my  love!  "  and  at 
every  sweet  name  that  he  called  her  he  kissed 
her  unresisting  lips.  There  was  no  impas- 
sioned burst  of  love  eloquence,  no  fervent 
pleading;  simply  the  sweet  names  and  the 
kisses.  All  at  once  Constantine  paused, 
4<  But  you  must  say  that  you  love  me,"  he 
whispered;  "you  do  love  me,  don't  you, 
Anezaki?"  This  question  he  repeated  sev- 
eral times,  without  eliciting  any  reply  from 
Aneza,  who  seemed  provokingly  interested  in 
digging  a  little  hole  in  the  gravel  with  the 
the  toe  of  her  slipper. 

"'Sh!"   she   exclaimed    at    last,    "I    hear 
father  and  mother  coming."    Constantine  lis- 


130  Constantine 

tened,  but  could  hear  nothing.  Two  or  three 
times  was  the  question  repeated,  two  or  three 
times  did  Aneza  repeat  her  coquettish  ruse, 
and  deeper  and  deeper  grew  the  little  hole  in 
the  gravel.  Finally  the  iron  gate  actually 
creaked  on  its  hinges,  and  well-known  voices 
were  heard  at  the  other  end  of  the  garden. 
Aneza  glanced  shyly  up  at  Constantine  with 
her  starry  eyes,  hesitated,  then  threw  both 
her  plump,  bare  arms  about  his  neck.  How 
brief  was  that  supreme  moment!  Yet  Con- 
stantine remembered  it  afterwards  in  the  soli- 
tude of  the  distant  city,  on  the  sea,  and  on  the 
mountains.  All  the  happiness  and  all  the  mis- 
ery of  the  rest  of  his  life  centred  about  that 
tiny  fragment  of  time.  Ere  he  realised  that 
she  was  gone,  Aneza  had  kissed  him  and  fled 
noiselessly  into  the  house.  He  still  felt  the 
dew  of  her  caress  delicately  evaporating  upon 
his  lips;  there  was  a  sense  of  cold  about  his 
neck  where  her  arms  had  been  taken  away, 
and  he  was  faintly  conscious  that  he  was 
breathing  a  familiar  perfume. 

He  was  surprised  a  moment  afterwards  to 
hear  the  crunch  of  his  own  feet  on  the  gravel, 


Constantine  131 

and  to  find  that  he  was  walking  briskly  to 
meet  his  godfather  and  Kuria  Leonidas. 

The  next  morning  at  coffee  Constantine 
did  not  see  Aneza,  and  at  the  noon  breakfast 
she  did  not  look  at  him,  but  kept  her  eyes 
fixed  intently  on  her  plate. 

In  the  afternoon,  on  his  return  from  school, 
he  saw  Aneza  sitting  in  her  little  garden,  em- 
broidering a  piece  of  cloth  with  gold  thread, 
and  singing  a  song  familiar  to  her  childhood: 

"  What  delight !  O,  what  delight ! 
Since  you  come,  O  swallow —  " 

He  sat  down  by  her,  and  putting  up  his 
closed  hand  said,  because  he  felt  awkward 
and  could  think  of  nothing  else  to  do,  "Let 's 
play  'Mora.'" 

"  No,"  she  replied,  without  raising  her 
eyes;  "  we're  too  old  now." 


Chapter  XII 


Constantine  remained  but  a  short  time  in 
Greece  after  this.  His  mind  was  active,  in- 
quiring, and  independent,  and  by  the  time 
he  was  nineteen  years  of  age  there  was  not 
much  more  for  him  to  learn  in  the  schools  of 
Athens,  as  they  then  existed.  His  remark- 
able progress  was  a  source  of  great  pleasure 
to  Spiridon,  who,  a  man  of  natural  ability, 
though  uneducated,  loved  to  sit  over  the 
mangali  and  talk  with  the  boy  about  the 
"  new  ideas  "  which  the  latter  was  absorbing. 
Nor  were  these  conversations  entirely  one- 
sided as  to  interchange  of  thought.  Spiridon 
had  visited  all  the  ports  of  the  Mediterranean, 
the  Black  Sea,  and  the  Sea  of  Azov,  and  had 
made  journeys  in  the  Two  Brothers  up 
the  Danube  River.  He  had  visited  Vienna  at 
one  extreme  of  his  wanderings,  and  Marseilles 
at  the  other,  so  that  his  mind  was  not  stub- 
born and  provincial,  like  that  of  his  wife  or 
132 


Constantine  133 

daughter.  He  had,  moreover,  many  enter- 
taining stories  to  tell  of  peoples  whom  he  had 
seen,  and  he  was  even  inclined  to  be  tolerant 
to  the  religious  beliefs  of  others.  Between 
the  old  man  and  the  young  there  grew  up  an 
intimacy  of  comradeship  more  touching  than 
that  which  usually  exists  between  father  and 
son. 

One  day  Constantine  came  home  from 
school  very  much  amused  over  an  incident 
that  had  occurred  during  the  recitation  in 
astronomy.  He  related  the  circumstance  to 
his  godfather  and  the  Kuria.  It  seemed  that 
the  instructor  had  been  explaining  that  the 
majority  of  the  visible  stars  were  suns  light- 
ing other  worlds,  and  the  very  natural  specu- 
lation had  arisen  as  to  whether  those  other 
planets  were  inhabited.  Constantine,  who 
was  of  a  poetical  turn,  of  course  took  the 
affirmative  in  the  discussion  which  followed. 
He  was  bitterly  opposed  by  three  young  stu- 
dents for  the  priesthood,  who  maintained  that 
the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  were  made  simply 
to  show  forth  the  glory  and  goodness  of 
God  to  man.  The  instructor  took  the  part 
of  Constantine,  and  at  this  the  embryo  priests 


134  Constantine 

became  greatly  excited,  and  flounced  from 
the  room,  declaring  that  they  would  not 
remain  to  be  instructed  in  blasphemy. 

"And  quite  right  they  were  too,"  said 
Kuria  Leonidas.  "  What  nonsense,  indeed, 
to  say  that  men  live  in  the  stars!  In  the  first 
place  they  are  not  big  enough.  Even  the 
moon,  which  is  the  biggest  of  them  all,  is 
no  larger  than  a  Kaskavali  cheese.  That 
men  should  live  on  it,  indeed!  " 

"But,  mana,"  said  Constantine,  pleasantly, 
"the  moon  is  a  long  way  off,  and  seems 
smaller  than  it  is.  Most  of  the  stars  are 
many  times  bigger  than  our  world  that  we 
live  on.  They  are  millions  of  miles  away, 
and  so  seem  mere  points  of  light. 

"Bah,  bah,  bah!"  exclaimed  the  Kuria, 
for  the  Greek  invariably  breaks  out  into  a 
series  of  "  bah,  bah,  bahs "  whenever  he 
wishes  to  throw  discredit  on  your  statements. 

"  Even  if  they  are  as  far  away  as  Poros, 
and  as  large  as  you  say,  they  would  n't  seem 
so  small  as  they  do.  It  takes  a  day  to  go 
to  Poros  when  the  wind  is  fair.  I  could  walk 
to  the  moon  in  two  hours  if  there  was  any 
way  to  get  there." 


Constantine  135 

Spiridon  sighed  but  said  nothing.  If  he 
regretted  that  such  a  way  did  not  exist,  he 
was  too  good-natured  to  make  an  unkind 
remark. 

The  Kuria  went  to  the  window  and  looked 
up  at  the  glorious  sky. 

"What  idiocy!"  she  cried.  "  Can  I  not 
see  how  far  away  the  stars  are?"  Then  she 
crossed  herself  devoutly,  and  went  into  a  work- 
room where  a  hand-loom  for  weaving  much 
of  the  cloth  worn  by  the  family  was  kept 
busy  many  hours  of  the  day;  for,  to  tell  the 
truth,  the  Kuria  had  not  been  allowed  to  pass 
so  idle  a  youth  as  she  would  fain  have  had 
her  neighbours  believe.  She  could  not  read  a 
line,  and  there  were  not  always  others  of  her 
own  sex  near  at  hand  with  whom  to  gossip.  To 
the  weaving-room  she  repaired  for  diversion, 
therefore,  when  her  aristocratic  indolence 
became  insupportable;  and  it  was  said  that 
she  sometimes  worked  the  machine  herself, 
with  her  own  bird-claw-like  hands,  and  that, 
too,  with  great  skill. 

After  she  was  gone  Spiridon  puffed  away 
for  many  minutes  upon  his  narghile,  making 
the  water  bubble  vigorously  in  its  glass  reser- 


136  Constantine 

voir.  Such  was  his  habit  when  thinking. 
The  louder  the  water  bubbled  in  his  narghile, 
the  harder  he  was  thinking. 

"  That 's  a  wonderful  thought  about  the 
stars,  my  boy,"  said  he,  at  last.  "  And  I  can 
easily  understand  it.  When  you  are  at  sea,  a 
distant  mountain  at  first  seems  like  the  small- 
est object  imaginable.  As  you  sail  towards 
it,  it  grows  larger  and  larger,  until  by  and  by 
the  shores  of  an  island  appear  to  grow  out  of 
the  water.  And  when  you  come  to  the  island, 
you  cruise  along  by  its  side  for  two  or  three 
days,  or  maybe  a  week.  Perhaps  many  of  the 
inhabitants  have  never  been  to  sea,  and  think 
of  their  own  little  patch  of  land  as  the  whole 
world.  So  it  is  likely  enough  with  the  stars, 
who  knows?" 

It  is  not  probable  that  Spiridon,  left  to 
himself,  would  ever  have  noticed  any  change 
in  the  relations  between  Aneza  and  Con- 
stantine. In  obedience  to  Aneza's  earnest 
injunction,  the  boy  had  said  nothing  to  his 
godfather  of  the  scene  in  the  garden,  and  to 
the  Kuria  he  could  not  have  mentioned  a 
matter  that  seemed  so  sacred  and  so  delicate 
to  him.  That  lady,  however,  soon  suspected 


Constantine  137 

that  something  was  on  foot  of  which  she  had 
not  been  informed.  Possibly  her  first  inti- 
mation arose  from  feminine  instinct — from 
that  power  of  second-sight  which  all  women 
possess  to  a  greater  or  less  degree.  After  the 
idea  had  once  occurred  to  her,  she  watched 
the  couple  closely,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that 
they  were  very  often  together  of  late;  that 
Constantine's  colour  heightened  when  he 
heard  Aneza's  step  or  voice,  and  the  girl  her- 
self was  not  so  frank  and  childish  in  her  de- 
portment towards  Constantine  as  formerly. 
To  the  latter  she  said  nothing;  judging  from 
what  her  own  conduct  would  be  in  such  a 
case,  she  took  for  granted  that  he  would  lie 
to  her.  Aneza  she  questioned,  but  the  girl 
was  too  sharp  for  her;  she  therefore  attacked 
Spiridon  on  the  subject,  with  a  course  of 
henpeckery  more  persistent  and  more  annoy- 
ing than  anything  he  had  ever  before  expe- 
rienced in  the  whole  course  of  his  married 
life. 

She  chose  the  seclusion  of  the  nuptial 
chamber  for  these  pleasing  diversions,  and 
filled  those  hours  which  he  would  have  gladly 
devoted  to  sleep  with  the  clatter  of  her  cease- 


138  Constantine 

less  tongue.  Often  Spiridon,  before  getting 
into  bed,  would  look  up  at  the  benevolent 
countenance  of  his  patron  saint,  and,  crossing 
himself  devoutly,  would  whisper  to  himself: 
"  O  holy  Nicholas,  who  so  often  didst  pro- 
tect me  on  the  great  deep,  save  me  this  night 
from  the  squalls  of  matrimony!" 

"  You  need  n't  tell  me,"  said  the  Kuria,  one 
night  after  a  long  tirade,  "  that  there  is  noth- 
ing going  on  between  that  boy  and  girl,  and 
who  knows  how  it  may  turn  out?  Perhaps 
they  will  run  away  and  get  married;  perhaps 
something  worse  will  happen,  and  then  you 
will  never  be  able  to  marry  our  Aneza  without 
giving  half  you  possess  as  a proeka" 

"O,  bah,  bah,  bah!"  replied  Spiridon; 
"you  don't  know  that  boy;  he  would  n't  do 
anything  dishonourable." 

'  'O,  he  would  n't,  hey — he,  with  his  heathen 
ideas, — and  I  don't  suppose  the  beggar  would 
run  away  with  Aneza  and  marry  her?  I  tell 
you,  Spiridon,  you  have  been  warming  a  viper 
in  your  bosom  all  these  years." 

"  No;  I  don't  even  believe  he  would  run 
away  with  her  without  telling  me  beforehand; 
and  if  the  two  should  get  married,  what  harm 


Constantine  139 

would  it  do?  I,  for  one,  should  be  pleased," 
blurted  out  Spiridon  stoutly,  but  the  next 
moment  he  regretted  his  courage,  and  was 
inclined  to  believe  that  he  had  been  foolhardy 
instead  of  brave. 

"  What! "  screamed  his  wife,  now  thoroughly 
aroused,  "  have  you  gone  crazy  ?  Holy  Virgin ! 
But  I  '11  have  you  know,  sir,  that  this  girl  is 
my  daughter,  and  I  '11  not  have  you  marry  her 
to  a  beggar;  I  'm  a  very  mild  and  peaceable 
woman,  as  you  well  know,  but  I  shall  not 
permit  you  to  drag  us  all  down  into  disgrace; 
you  put  a  nice  sum  of  money  into  your  pocket 
when  you  married  me,  and  now  for  once  in 
my  life,  I  '11  have  something  to  say."  And 
so  on  for  a  good  hour,  Spiridon  discreetly 
remaining  quiet.  "Why  don't  you  say  any- 
thing, you  animal?"  she  demanded  at  last. 
"Are  you  asleep?" 

"No,  my  soul,"  he  groaned;  "I'm  not 
asleep — surely  not  asleep."  Here  the  lady 
broke  into  a  violent  storm  of  tears. 

"  Holy  Nicholas! "  muttered  Spiridon ;  "  first 
wind  and  then  rain,  what  next?" 


Chapter  XIII 

About  this  time  Spiridon  was  making  his 
memorable  run  for  the  Voule,  or  Greek  House 
of  Parliament.  With  what  vigour  he  con- 
ducted his  campaign  some  of  the  old  resi- 
dents of  Athens  still  remember.  There  are 
those  living  to-day  who  have  sat  for  hours 
with  him  in  Barbandone's  wineshop,  or  in 
one  of  the  principal  cafes,  or  have  heard  him 
harangue  the  people  from  Constitution 
Square.  But  he  was  bitterly  opposed;  dark 
hints  were  thrown  out  by  political  adversaries 
as  to  the  source  of  his  wealth,  while  his 
homely  and  ungrammatical  efforts  as  a  public 
speaker  were  much  ridiculed.  In  this  latter 
function  Constantine  was  of  great  assistance 
to  him. 

Spiridon     would     stride    up     and     down 

the   drawing-room,   rehearsing  his  intended 

speeches,  while  the  boy  listened,  correcting 

pronunciation,  substituting   pure   Greek   for 

140 


Constantine  141 

the  rude,  mixed  idioms  of  the  sailor  class;  and 
even  making  shrewd  hints  as  to  what  should 
or  should  not  be  said.  Under  this  tuition  the 
would-be  Congressman  really  made  great 
improvement  in  every  particular  except  that 
of  pronunciation.  His  vocal  organs  had  been 
trained  in  youth  among  the  simple  and  igno- 
rant fisher-folk  of  the  Western  ^Egean,  and 
nothing  could  prevent  his  talking  in  their 
guttural  style.  Often  Constantine,  after  his 
godfather  had  finished  a  long  oration,  would 
repeat  the  substance  of  the  entire  speech, 
embellishing  it  with  the  pedantic  language  of 
the  schools,  and  adorning  his  delivery  with 
gestures  which  he  was  wont  to  imagine  when 
reading  the  speeches  of  Demosthenes;  then 
his  pupil  would  become  greatly  excited,  and 
would  clap  his  hands,  crying,  "  That 's  right, 
give  it  to  'em,  my  boy!"  After  Constantine 
had  finished  he  would  sigh,  and  say,  "  Ah,  if 
you  could  speak  in  my  place,  my  boy,  we 
should  win." 

Despite  all  his  efforts,   Spiridon  was  de 
feated  and  forced  to  retire  into  private  life. 
It  may  have  been  partly  the  result  of  this,  and 
partly  to  remove  the  cause  of  his  wife's  con- 


142  Constantine 

tinual  henpecking,  that  he  announced  his  in- 
tent of  sending  Constantine  to  Germany  to 
complete  his  education.  Since  the  accession 
of  King  Otho  to  the  throne,  much  interest 
had  been  aroused  in  Greece  in  the  German 
language  and  letters,  and  Spiridon  declared 
that  he  would  give  his  godson  the  best  educa- 
tion possible. 

"  Do  so,"  exclaimed  the  Kuria  with  a  sneer. 
"  Make  him  a  thorough  barbarian  while 
you  're  about  it." 

"  He  shall  come  back,"  replied  Spiridon, 
"  and  become  Prime  Minister.  If  I  'd  have 
known  more  than  I  do,  I  'd  be  in  the  Voule* 
to-day." 

When  Constantine  was  first  informed  of 
his  godfather's  intention,  his  delight  knew 
no  bounds;  but  as  the  time  for  departure  ap- 
proached, sadness  at  the  idea  of  parting  from 
Aneza,  whom  he  had  thus  far  seen  every  day 
of  his  life,  increased  within  him  until  he  be- 
came almost  ill  with  a  sort  of  anticipatory 
homesickness.  That  the  girl  loved  him 
devotedly  at  that  time  there  can  be  no  doubt. 
She  occupied  herself  during  the  last  days 
making  little  mementos  of  fancy  work  for 


Constantine  143 

him,  and  he  often  saw  tears  in  her  big  brown 
eyes.  Then  he  would  whisper,  if  they  were 
alone  together  for  the  moment,  "  Don't  cry, 
Anezaki;  I  '11  come  back  before  you  know  it, 
and  be  a  great  man,  and  you  shall  be  my 
wife."  Whereupon  she  would  smile,  and  he 
would  declare  that  he  saw  rainbows  in  her  eyes. 

One  afternoon  Spiridon  and  Constantine 
took  a  walk  out  beyond  the  ancient  theatre  of 
Dionysus,  then  buried  beneath  the  sands 
that  had  fallen  from  the  feet  of  two  thousand 
hurrying  years.  They  climbed  the  hill  where 
stands  the  ruined  monument  of  Philopappos, 
and  sitting  down  looked  upon  the  distant 
sea,  red  in  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  The 
older  man  pointed  to  the  ocean  with  his  staff, 
and  his  heart  leaped  with  joy.  He  even  in- 
haled a  long  breath,  as  though  he  could 
smell  the  sweet  salt-water  from  afar.  But 
Constantine,  when  he  saw  the  glimmering 
stretches  of  silver  and  blood-red,  and  the 
ships  that  looked  so  little  in  the  distance, 
suddenly  burst  into  tears. 

"What  is  it,  my  boy?"  asked  Spiridon, 
"  are  you  so  sorry  at  the  thought  of  leaving 
your  Nounos?  " 


144  Constantine 

"Yes,  Noune*,"  replied  Constantine,  con- 
trolling his  emotion  with  a  brave  effort.  "  I 
am  very  sorry  indeed  to  part  with  you." 

Spiridon  laid  his  hand  tenderly  on  that  of 
his  godson,  and  the  two  sat  in  silence  for 
some  time.  Finally  the  boy  confessed  boldly, 
like  the  manly  young  fellow  that  he  was. 

"  Noune","  said  he,  "  you  've  always  dealt 
so  honestly  with  me,  and  so  tenderly,  that 
I  '11  not  deceive  you,  even  by  a  half-truth. 
You  've  been  father  and  mother  to  me,  when 
I  had  n't  any  one  else  on  earth;  and  more, 
you  've  been  my  dear  old  Nounos.  I  am  in- 
deed sorry  to  part  with  you,  and  I  should  be 
very  ungrateful  if  the  thought  of  going  away 
did  not  make  tears  come  into  my  eyes.  '  But 
I  was  not  thinking  of  you  just  then,  when  I 
saw  the  great  .sea,  and  the  ships  that  seem 
fading  away  into  the  sky.  Don't  be  angry 
with  me.  It  was  of  Aneza  I  was  thinking. 
We  've  been  together  always.  I  can  scarcely 
remember  a  day  that  I  've  not  seen  her. 
When  I  think  of  leaving  you,  dear  old  Noune, 
I  'm  very  sad,  for  I  love  you;  but  then  I  am 
at  the  same  time  filled  with  joy,  because  I 
know  I  shall  strive  to  do  great  things  and  be 


Constantine  145 

worthy  of  you.  I  know  also  that  I  am  a  man, 
and  a  true  Greek,  and  must  take  my  part  in 
the  world  as  such,  and  that  by  so  doing  I  will 
make  you  proud  of  me.  But  with  Aneza  it  is 
different.  I  try  to  reason  in  the  same  way 
when  her  image  comes  up  in  my  mind,  but  I 
can't.  In  leaving  her  behind,  I  feel  as  though 
I  were  going  away  without  my  soul — my 
heart.  I  feel  as  though  my  body  would  be 
living  in  a  foreign  land  and  my  life  would  be 
here  in  Greece.  I  try  to  reason  that  the  time 
will  pass  quickly  till  I  come  back  again,  which 
is  no  doubt  the  truth,  but  the  thought  of 
being  away  from  her  at  all  is  like  death  to 
me." 

"  Does  Aneza  know  this  ?  "  asked  Spiridon. 

"  She  does.  I  have  told  her  that  I  love 
her — I  could  n't  help  it." 

"  And  what  did  she  say  ?  " 

"She  said  she  loved  me.  She  said  she 
would  be  my  wife  when  I  returned  and  be- 
came a  great  man." 

Spiridon  sat  in  reflection  for  many  minutes, 
and  during  that  time  Constantine  imagined 
that  he  could  hear  his  own  heart  beating 
plainly. 


146  Constantine 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  told  me  all  this,"  said 
the  older  man  at  last,  heartily,  and  without 
the  least  show  of  displeasure,  "  because  it 
proves  to  me  again,  what  I  already  believed, 
that  my  boy  would  not  deceive  me  in  any- 
thing. And  now  that  you  have  opened  your 
heart  to  me,  I  will  say  to  you  frankly  that 
this  matter  pleases  me  greatly.  I  have  long 
since  hoped  for  this  very  thing.  You  are  the 
son  of  my  best  friend,  and  my  own  godson, 
bound  to  me  closer  even  than  if  by  ties  of 
blood—" 

"  Oh,  Noune","  cried  the  young  man,  leap- 
ing to  his  feet,  "how  good  you  are,  and  how 
happy  I  am." 

"This  arrangement,"  continued  Spiridon, 
"  will  make  you  indeed  my  son,  and  will 
allow  me  to  carry  out  to  the  fullest  degree  the 
promise  I  made  to  your  poor  father." 

"  How  I  will  work  and  study  over  there," 
exclaimed  Constantine.  "  I  '11  make  even 
mana  proud  of  me." 

"  We  '11  say  nothing  to  mana  at  present," 
replied  Spiridon,  with  a  sigh.  "Some  day 
she  will  look  at  matters  as  I  do.  In  the 
mean  time  you  must  be  as  kind  and  gentle- 


Constantine  147 

manly  to  your  rnana  as  you  always  have  been, 
and  do  your  work.  Everything  will  come 
out  right  in  the  end." 

The  mention  of  the  Kuria  threw  a  re- 
straint over  both  Spiridon  and  his  godson 
that  resulted  in  silence  during  most  of  the 
walk  home. 

But  just  before  they  arrived  at  the  familiar 
gate  Constantine  suddenly  stopped,  as  is  the 
custom  of  Greeks  when  an  idea  occurs  dur- 
ing a  walk,  and  said  with  much  earnestness: 
"  Noune*,  the  day  after  to-morrow  I  go  away. 
I  would  n't  do  anything  to  deceive  mana,  and 
yet  I  would  like  to  have  just  one  little  talk 
with  Aneza  before  I  leave, — just  to  have  her 
to  myself  for  a  little  while  and  no  one  to 
spoil  our  parting. 

And  to  this,  too,  Spiridon  agreed.  Perhaps 
he  had  been  in  love  himself  when  young, — who 
knows?  If  so,  let  us  hope  it  had  not  been 
with  the  Kuria;  for  death  itself  is  not  so  sad 
as  disillusionment. 

The  next  day  the  three  took  a  walk,  and 
when  they  had  come  into  the  country,  Spiridon 
went  off  by  himself  and  left  the  lovers  to  say 
their  farewell  alone.  Then  Constantine  told 


148  Constantine 

Aneza  what  so  many  a  woman  and  girl  has 
heard  before.  It  is  true  he  had  already  told 
her  once,  but  this  is  a  story  that  bears  repeti- 
tion. Very  hopefully  he  talked.  While  he  held 
his  beloved  in  his  arms,  it  seemed  as  though 
the  years  of  separation  were  a  mere  episode. 
Yes,  they  seemed  to  him  already  passed,  and 
for  the  moment  he  regarded  himself  returned, 
covered  with  honour  and  claiming  her  as  his 
very  own,  with  no  one  to  say  him  nay.  A  feel- 
ing of  tenderness  came  over  him  for  all  the 
world,  even  his  godfather's  wife.  He  could 
feel  Aneza  tremble  in  his  arms  as  he  called 
her  again  all  the  sweet  Romaic  love-names, 
and  told  her  it  was  surely  fixed  that  she  was 
to  be  his  wife,  because  her  father  was  their 
friend  in  the  matter.  "And  we  must  bring 
mana  around  by  kindness,"  he  said.  "  You 
must  be  ever  so  good  to  her  while  I  'm  gone, 
and  I  shall  always  treat  her  with  the  greatest 
respect,  no  matter  what  she  says,  and  so  she 
will  come  to  agree  to  it."  Then  he  bent  back 
her  head  and  tried  to  see  her  eyes,  but  she 
kept  them  covered  with  the  long,  dark  lashes. 
He  kissed  them  both  many  times  and  told  her 
to  open  them,  because  it  was  dark  while  they 


Constantine  149 

were  shut,  and  in  that  sweet  moment  she  be- 
lieved Constantine  was  the  only  man  in  the 
world,  and  said:  "  I  do  love  you,  Constantine; 
I  do,  I  do.  I  will  always  love  you  and  be 
your  Anezaki,  and  nobody  else's.  And  I  '11 
do  whatever  you  say,  and  pray  our  blessed 
Lady  every  day  to  bless  you  and  keep  you, 
and  I  '11  only  live  for  the  time  when  you  come 
back." 

"And  I  shall  be  back  soon,  as  if  it  were 
to-morrow,  and  then  we  shall  be  married,  as 
God  intended  from  the  beginning  of  the 
world;  for  am  I  not  Constantine,  and  are  you 
not  Aneza?  And  now,  our  good-bye  kiss." 

And  she  kissed  him  with  her  whole  soul, 
as  a  woman  kisses  the  accepted  king  of  her 
life. 


Chapter  XIV 

So  Constantine  went  to  Munich  to  study  the 
classics  and  Bavarian  law,  and  to  dream  of 
Aneza.  His  nounos  accompanied  him  in  a 
caique  down  the  Saronic  Gulf  to  Kalamaki, 
and  the  two  crossed  the  isthmus  together  on 
mules  to  the  ancient  city  of  Corinth.  There 
Constantine  parted  from  his  godfather,  and 
went  on  board  a  sailing-vessel  bound  for 
Venice  by  way  of  the  Adriatic  Sea.  From 
Venice  he  crossed  the  Tyrol  by  stage,  and 
found  himself  at  last  in  Munich.  Of  his  life 
there  it  is  not  our  purpose  to  give  an  ex- 
tended account.  Suffice  to  say  that  he  greatly 
distinguished  himself  as  a  student,  winning 
high  praise,  especially  in  the  Greek  classics. 
German  he  had  studied  at  the  young  Uni- 
versity of  Athens,  and  soon  spoke  it  with 
perfect  command,  and  without  any  trace  of  a 
foreign  accent.  His  clear  and  vital  compre- 
hension of  Greek  was  shown  by  the  fact  that 
150 


Constantine  151 

often,  when  asked  to  explain  a  passage  of 
^Eschylus  or  Sophocles,  difficult  to  the  other 
students,  he  would  look  puzzled,  and  repeat 
the  lines  in  Greek,  replying  respectfully  in 
the  same  tongue,  "Why,  it  means  what  it 
says;  I  cannot  express  it  better."  On  the 
other  hand,  if  asked  to  translate  into  German, 
he  would  do  so  immediately.  Following  the 
advice  of  a  German  instructor  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Athens,  he  laid  aside  his  native 
dressbefore appearing  in  the  streets  of  Munich. 
His  first  recitation  in  a  Greek  class  in  the 
latter  city  is  still  a  legend  among  college 
men.  Being  asked  to  read  a  passage  of 
Demosthenes,  he  complied  with  much  fluency 
and  considerable  fire.  For  several  moments 
after  he  had  taken  his  seat  profound  silence 
ensued,  broken  at  last  by  the  professor,  who 
inquired  sternly,  "  Where  in  the  world  did 
you  learn  your  extraordinary  pronunciation 
of  Greek,  sir?"  "In  Athens,"  innocently 
replied  Constantine;  and  was  astonished  a 
moment  afterwards  to  hear  his  fellow-students 
burst  into  a  loud  shout  of  laughter,  as  though 
a  particularly  good  thing  had  been  said  at 
somebody's  expense.  The  professor  should 


152  Constantine 

be  given  the  credit  of  having  shown  himself 
a  sensible  man  in  Constantine's  case,  for  he 
made  an  exception,  and  allowed  the  young 
Greek  to  pronounce  his  native  tongue  as  he 
had  learned  it  in  childhood.  This  was  wise, 
for  when  Constantine  pronounced  Greek  as 
he  knew  it,  he  proved  himself  the  only  student 
in  the  class  who  could  actually  speak  the 
language,  and  who  could  read  it  at  sight  with 
perfect  understanding.  It  must  be  added, 
however,  that  the  German  professor  never 
would  admit  that  Greek  was  anything  but 
a  dead  language,  and  he  insisted  that  all  his 
other  pupils  should  pronounce  it  according 
to  a  dead  method.  But  then,  when  a  Ger- 
man professor  gets  an  idea  into  his  head, 
there  is  no  way  of  removing  the  idea  without 
removing  the  head,  and  that  method  is  fatal. 
So,  as  the  Greeks  say,  "What  can  you  do?" 
Constantine's  student  life,  on  the  whole, 
was  similar  to  that  of  hundreds  of  other 
young  men  who  have  studied  in  Germany, 
with  the  exception  that  he  pursued  his  work 
with  unflagging  zeal,  which,  unfortunately, 
does  not  always  happen.  The  letters  that  he 
wrote  home  were  directed  to  his  nounos,  and 


Constantine  153 

were  written  in  the  colloquial  style  best  fitted 
for  the  old  man's  understanding.  They  con- 
tained cheerful,  manly  descriptions  of  his  life 
in  a  foreign  land,  and  were  enlivened  by 
many  amusing  incidents.  They  spoke  often, 
also,  of  his  ambitions  and  hopes,  and  had 
now  and  then  a  touching  bit  of  homesick- 
ness, showing  that  his  heart  was  still  in  that 
beautiful  land  which  no  true  Greek  ever  forgets. 
The  feature  of  nature  which  he  seemed  most 
to  miss  during  his  exile  was  Mount  Hymettus. 
In  every  one  of  his  letters  he  spoke  of  it, 
showing  that  he  had  vivid  memories  of  its 
appearance  at  all  seasons  of  the  year  and 
under  all  circumstances.  "  How  I  long,"  he 
said,  in  one  letter  written  in  the  month  of 
August,  "once  more  to  see  the  light  that 
comes  on  Mount  Hymettus,  just  after  the  set- 
ting of  the  summer  sun,  when  all  the  world 
is  cool  and  quiet  and  dim,  and  off  there  in 
the  mysterious  distance  lies  a  huge  bank  of 
violet  more  lovely  than  the  mountains  of 
earth.  No  wonder  our  great  forefathers 
peopled  the  hills,  streams,  and  winds  with 
immortal  beings.  Nature  is  at  all  times  so 
lovely  in  Greece,  it  suggests  a  happier  race 


154  Constantine 

than  ours."  At  another  time,  writing  in  the  late 
autumn,  he  longed  to  see  Hymettus  wreathed 
fantastically  in  clouds  along  its  entire  summit; 
and  once,  in  the  spring,  he  spoke  of  the 
mountain  standing  out  distinct  and  dark 
against  the  sky,  while  the  great  yellow  moon 
peeped  cautiously  from  behind  it,  and  then 
glided  boldly  into  the  carnival  heavens.  An 
incident  referred  to  in  one  of  his  letters  shows 
how  serious  a  thing  to  Constantine  was  his 
love  for  Aneza.  He  did  not  himself  describe 
his  duel  with  the  bully  of  the  junior  class  in 
boastful  language,  nor  in  fact  give  a  very 
full  account  of  it,  but  one  of  the  tutors  wrote 
of  the  matter  to  Spiridon  in  bombastic  and 
pedantic  ancient  Greek. 

It  seems  that  the  affair  had  come  to  the 
ears  of  the  faculty,  who,  after  hearing  both 
sides  of  the  question,  had  inflicted  upon  Con- 
stantine nothing  severer  than  a  reprimand, 
coupled  with  the  warning  not  to  commit  the 
offence  again.  Duelling  was  against  the  rules, 
but  the  serious  old  Herr  doctors  had  all  been 
rollicking  students  in  their  younger  days, 
and  the  details  of  a  spirited  encounter 
thrilled  them  like  a  strain  of  martial  music 


Constantine  155 

does  an  old  war-horse  when  it  floats  faintly 
into  the  solemn  domains  of  his  pasture.  Their 
voices  were  severe  and  dry,  but  their  eyes 
flashed  betrayingly,  and  they  fidgetted  uneasily 
in  their  seats. 

The  facts  in  the  case  appear  to  have  been 
about  as  follows: 

One  evening  a  number  of  students,  among 
whom  was  Constantine,  were  sitting  around  a 
table  in  a  favourite  resort,  smoking  huge 
pipes,  and  discussing  the  excellent  beer  for 
which  the  town  is  noted.  As  the  hour  grew 
late,  the  merriment  grew  louder.  Toasts  were 
proposed  and  replied  to.  Mugs  were  noisily 
rapped  on  the  table,  and  rollicking  songs 
were  roared  out  in  chorus.  A  President  of 
the  Board  having  been  elected,  that  func- 
tionary decided  that  every  one  present  must 
either  tell  an  original  story,  or  sing  a  song 
never  before  heard  by  the  remainder  of  the 
company.  When  Constantine's  turn  arrived, 
he  announced,  amidst  a  chorus  of  "  hochs  !  " 
that  he  would  sing  a  song  which  he  had  him- 
self composed  and  set  to  music.  He  explained 
modestly,  that  although  the  song  was  a  poor 
little  thing,  the  toastmaster's  hard  conditions 


156  Constantine 

obliged  him  to  give  it.  He  then  sang,  in  a 
deep  bass  voice,  the  following,  as  nearly  as 
the  words  can  be  translated  into  English: 

I  know  a  cellar  where  the  wine 
Like  prisoned  sunshine  gleams, 

And  some  old  legend  of  the  Rhine 
In  every  bottle  dreams. 

There,  while  the  smoke  wreaths  interlace, 

Or  settle  thin  and  grey, 
We  troll  brave  songs  in  German  bass 

To  frighten  care  away. 

We  care  no  whit  for  prince  or  king, 

Nor  praise  of  fickle  crowds  ; 
We  puff  our  meerschaums  while  we  sing, 

And  dwell  among  the  clouds. 

"Bravo,  bravo!"  shouted  the  students  gaily. 
"  Who  ever  knew  that  Constantine  was  a 
poet?" 

"  He  's  a  genuine  troubadour,"  said  one; 
"he  writes  a  song  and  sings  it  himself." 

"  Shall  we  have  a  second  Tyrtaeus?  "  asked 
another. 

"  Hardly  that,  for  Greece  is  done  fighting 
for  the  present." 

"  I  '11  write  drinking-songs,"  said  Constan- 
tine good-humouredly. 


Constantine  157 

"Oh,  that  won't  do,"  exclaimed  the  bully, 
winking  at  his  neighbour,  "we  could  not  let 
you  waste  your  great  talents  on  so  trivial  a 
subject.  After  war,  the  only  worthy  theme 
is  love.  What  a  pity  the  Greek  women  are 
not  charmers,  as  they  were  in  the  days  of 
Phrynne  and  Aspasia.  With  such  inspiration 
we  should  expect  to  hear  something  great 
from  you  in  the  future!" 

"I  assure  you,"  replied  Constantine,  "my 
countrywomen  are  as  beautiful  as  they  ever 
were;  indeed,  I  believe  they  are  the  most 
beautiful  women  in  the  world,  and  if  I  do 
not  sometime  write  a  suitable  poem  about 
them,  it  will  be  because  I  'm  unworthy  the 
subject." 

A  sudden  hush  fell  upon  the  gay  assembly. 
The  bully  was  well  known  as  a  skilful  swords- 
man, and  one  of  those  present  bore  upon  his 
cheek  a  mark  of  his  skill.  Constantine,  on 
the  other  hand,  though  an  unknown  quantity 
in  brawls,  was  foremost  in  manly  exercises, 
and  very  fond  of  practice  with  the  foils, 
which  he  handled  with  great  address.  It  re- 
mained to  be  seen  if  he  possessed  sufficient 
nerve  to  defend  his  convictions., 


158  Constantine 

"  I  've  an  uncle  now  in  Greece,"  continued 
the  bully,  "who  went  over  there  to  a  little 
town  called  Herakleia,  near  Athens,  to  teach 
the  natives  something  about  wine  culture. 
"  He  's  in  despair,  however;  he  finds  them 
very  stupid." 

"  Herakleia  is  peopled  with  German  colo- 
nists. Perhaps  that 's  the  trouble,"  said  Con- 
stantine. 

This  retort  raised  a  laugh  from  the  good- 
natured  students  and  infuriated  the  bully. 
"But  to  return  to  the  women,"  continued  the 
latter,  "  my  uncle  writes  that  they  are  a  set  of 
scarecrows;  that  there  is  n't  a  handsome 
woman  in  Greece.  He  even  intimates  that 
their  much-vaunted  virtue  is  attributable  to 
their  unattractive  appearance.  Ah,  well,  every 
one  to  his  taste.  It 's  strange,  since  you  ad- 
mire your  countrywomen  so,  that  one  has  n't 
captivated  your  poetic  soul.  Ah,  behold 
those  telltale  blushes,  gentlemen.  I  propose 
a  vote  of  thanks  to  Constantine's  little  Greek 
sweetheart.  I  see  her  now,  round  face,  thick 
lips,  swarthy  skin — " 

"Stop!"  cried  Constantine  in  a  loud  voice, 
suddenly  pushing  back  his  chair;  then,  con- 


Constantine  159 

trolling  himself  as  far  as  possible,  he  said, 
"  If  your  uncle  has  given  you  such  an  opin- 
ion of  Greek  women,  he  's  a  blackguard  and 
a  liar,  and  I  'm  sorry  that  he  is  n't  here,  so 
that  I  could  pull  his  nose." 

"Don't  let  that  disturb  you,"  said  the  bully 
sarcastically;  "  I  know  my  uncle  to  be  a  gen- 
tleman of  truth,  and  will  assume  all  respon- 
sibility for  his  statements." 

"Then,"  said  Constantine,  "I  shall  pull 
your  nose." 

He  arose,  pushed  his  chair  back  with  de- 
termination, and  walked  rapidly  around  the 
table.  When  he  had  reached  the  side  on 
which  the  bully  was  seated,  that  gentleman 
leaped  to  his  feet,  and  hurled  a  half-emptied 
beer-mug  at  Constantine's  head.  The  latter 
dodged,  and  in  a  moment  the  two  closed. 
Great  excitement  prevailed.  The  non-com- 
batants sprang  to  their  feet  crying,  "  Gentle- 
men !  Gentlemen!  Shame!  Shame!"  and 
rushed  forward  to  pull  the  two  apart.  Before 
this  was  effected,  the  table  was  tipped  over, 
beer-mugs  and  chairs  being  scattered  about 
the  room.  Finally  Constantine  found  him- 
self on  one  side  of  the  table  and  his  ad- 


160  Constantine 

versary  on  the  other,  each  panting  with  rage 
and  violent  exertion,  and  each  held  by  about 
one  half  the  occupants  of  the  cellar. 

"I  challenge  you  to  meet  me  to-morrow 
with  swords,"  cried  the  bully. 

"  I  '11  fight  you  now,"  shouted  Constantine, 
"  but  first  I  must  pull  your  nose.  I  said  I 
would,  and  I  will."  Here  he  made  a  despe- 
rate but  unavailable  effort  to  free  himself. 

"  Save  your  strength,"  said  a  young  man, 
who  was  always  foremost  in  advocating  fight- 
ing when  he  was  not  personally  concerned  in  it; 
"save  your  strength  for  the  field  of  honour." 
Then  leaping  upon  a  chair,  he  continued, 
"  Gentlemen,  words  have  been  said  here  to- 
night, deeds  have  been  committed  that  can 
only  be  wiped  out  with  blood.  That 's  the 
way  I  should  feel  were  I  one  of  the  princi- 
pals; that 's  the  way  any  one  of  you  would 
feel.  Thus,  I  'm  sure,  being  men  of  cour- 
age, the  principals  themselves  feel.  The 
sooner,  therefore,  we  have  this  unpleasant 
business  over,  the  better."  To  this  all  agreed. 
Adjournment  was  made  to  the  apartments  of 
a  well-known  fencing-master,  who  willingly 
furnished  everything  necessary  for  the  en- 


Constantine  161 

counter.  Seconds  were  chosen,  and  the  two 
young  men,  stripped  to  the  waist,  stood  fac- 
ing each  other,  their  swords  in  their  hands. 
German  students'  duels  have  been  described 
so  many  times,  it  would  be  a  mere  repetition 
to  give  a  detailed  account  of  this.  Suffice  to 
say  that  the  opponents  seemed  very  evenly 
matched  at  first,  and  that  Constantine  gave 
and  received  several  of  those  ugly  cuts  which 
adorn  the  faces  of  so  many  graduates  of  the 
German  universities.  Gradually,  however,  he 
gained  the  advantage  of  his  adversary,  and 
finally,  by  a  skilful  turn  of  his  powerful 
wrist,  succeeded  in  disarming  him.  Spring- 
ing forward,  he  placed  his  foot  upon  the 
fallen  weapon,  and  holding  his  own  aloft 
cried,  "  Whoever  interferes  now,  be  it  one  or 
all,  must  settle  with  me." 

Dropping  his  sword  to  the  floor  with  a 
clang,  he  sprang  upon  the  bully,  seizing  him 
around  the  waist.  None  of  the  spectators 
moved  from  his  place  except  the  fencing- 
master,  who  danced  back  and  forth  in  pro- 
fessional agony,  wringing  his  hands  and  ex- 
claiming: "But  this  is  so  irregular!  So  irreg- 
ular!" 


1 62  Constantine 

The  contest  was  of  short  duration,  Con- 
stantine's  superior  strength  showing  itself 
immediately;  his  sinewy  arms  sank  into  the 
bully's  sides  and  bent  him  back  until  it 
seemed  as  though  each  convulsive  hug  would 
crack  the  bully's  spinal  column.  During 
perhaps  half  a  minute,  which  seemed  at  least 
half  an  hour  to  the  onlookers,  the  two  con- 
testants swayed  back  and  forth,  and  then  fell 
heavily  to  the  floor.  There  was  a  short, 
vicious  struggle  on  the  hard  boards,  and  then 
Constantine  appeared  on  top,  holding  his  op- 
ponent's arms  pinioned  to  the  floor.  Unex- 
pectedly he  let  go  with  his  right  hand,  and 
seizing  the  bully's  nose,  gave  the  unoffending 
organ  an  artistic  tweak. 

"  Greek  women  don't  suit  you,  eh?"  said 
Constantine  between  his  teeth.  Springing 
nimbly  to  his  feet  he  recovered  his  hat  and 
sword,  and  making  a  low  bow,  asked,  "  Has 
any  gentleman  anything  to  say?  "  No  gentle- 
man having  anything  to  say,  Constantine  left 
the  smoky  and  dusty  room,  followed  by  the 
most  of  the  students,  who  insisted  upon  re- 
turning to  the  drinking-cellar  with  him, 
where  they  made  a  lion  of  him. 


Constantine  163 

The  bully  remained  with  his  second  and 
two  or  three  particular  friends,  but  what 
plans  for  revenge  were  plotted  was  never 
known,  as  no  demonstration  was  made  by 
the  defeated  party. 

"  But  why  on  earth  did  you  pull  his  nose  ?" 
asked  a  student  of  mental  and  moral  philos- 
ophy, a  close  friend  of  Constantine's. 

"  Because,"  replied  the  latter,  "  he  had 
publicly  slandered  my  countrywomen,  an  in- 
sult which  could  only  be  wiped  out  by  pub- 
licly disgracing  or  killing  him.  I  chose  the 
former  course." 

Whereupon  the  student  of  mental  and 
moral  philosophy  embarked  upon  a  two- 
years'  course  of  original  research  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  "  human  nose,"  the  result  of  which 
he  published  in  a  paper  now  on  file  in  the 
university  library.  His  title  literally  trans- 
lated means,  "  The  nose  as  the  seat  of  honour 
in  the  Human  Biped,"  and  the  theory  sug- 
gested is  ably  defended  by  the  inductive 
method  of  reasoning. 

Spiridon  had  not  been  able  to  make  much 
sense  of  the  German  professor's  letter,  written 
as  it  was  in  stilted  ancient  Greek.  He  there- 


164  Constantine 

fore  called  in  Constantine's  Athenian  teacher, 
who  translated  it  into  the  modern  vernacular 
in  the  presence  of  Aneza,  the  Kuria,  and 
Spiridon  himself.  Aneza's  cheeks  burned 
during  the  reading,  and  her  eyes  glowed,  but 
she  said  nothing.  The  professor  paused  fre- 
quently to  shout,  "Zeto,  Palikari,  zeto!" 
Spiridon  joining  in. 

"  He 's  a  ruffian,"  said  the  Kuria,  as  she 
flounced  out  of  the  room  at  the  end  of  the 
reading.  She  could  see  no  good  in  Con- 
stantine. 


Chapter   XV 


Constantine  sometimes  took  advantage  of 
the  Kuria's  inability  to  read  to  enclose  a  few 
lines  to  Aneza  in  his  letters  to  his  nounos,  and 
the  contraband  missives  were  faithfully  turned 
over  to  the  girl  without  her  mother's  knowl- 
edge, although  the  latter  no  doubt  suspected 
that  she  was  being  deceived,  and  this  fact 
added  to  her  hatred  of  Constantine. 

Love  letters  are  sacred  literature;  more- 
over, they  can  only  be  understood  by  the 
heart  that  writes  and  the  heart  that  reads. 
They  are  the  special,  intimate  language  of 
the  two  souls  concerned.  Even  if  we  wished 
to  publish  the  messages  sent  from  time  to 
time  from  Constantine  to  Aneza,  we  should 
find  the  task  difficult;  for  who  could  translate 
into  a  foreign  tongue  the  true  meaning  of  a 
Greek  love  letter?  The  sweet  expressions 
can  be  translated,  but  not  the  effect  which 
they  produce  on  a  Greek  maiden's  heart.  So 
165 


1 66  Constantine 

an  artificial  flower  can  be  made  to  deceive 
the  eye,  but  it  has  no  fragrance.  Letters  of 
this  nature  are  poetry,  and  all  poetry  is  un- 
translatable. The  love  letter  of  a  Greek  far 
from  the  land  of  his  birth  is  especially  affect- 
ing, for  in  it  are  mingled  the  longings  of  pas- 
sion, with  a  homesickness  so  intense  as  to  be 
incomprehensible  to  people  of  other  nations. 
Constantine  said  always  the  same  things  in 
his  letters  to  Aneza,  for  the  language  of  love, 
as  every  one  knows,  is  made  up  of  sweet  repe- 
titions. 

"My  eyes,"  he  would  write,  "but  a  little 
while  longer,  and  I  shall  see  your  dear  face 
again,  and  hold  you  in  my  arms.  Oh,  how  I  am 
dying  to  kiss  your  lips  once  more!  There  are 
two  places  sacred  on  earth  to  me:  that  place 
where  I  kissed  you  on  Easter  night,  when  the 
knowledge  of  love  first  came  to  me;  and  the 
great  pine  tree  in  our  yard,  where  you  put 
your  arms  around  my  neck  and  kissed  me.  I 
think  of  you  constantly,  because  everything 
in  nature  reminds  me  of  you.  The  sky  here 
is  not  so  bright  as  the  sky  of  Greece,  and  I 
say  to  myself,  this  is  because  Aneza  is  not 
here.  The  moon  and  the  stars  are  not  so  glo- 


Constantine  167 

rioushere;  and  I  think  nothing  is  fair  where 
Aneza  is  not.  Oh,  how  I  long  for  Greece, 
and  everything  in  Greece:  the  beautiful 
heavens  and  the  far-away  sea;  the  light  on 
the  hills  at  sundown;  the  smell  of  the  orange- 
blossoms  and  the  song  of  the  nightingale; 
and  more  than  all  these,  how  I  long  for 
Anezaki.  You  are  sweeter  than  cold  water; 
you  are  dearer  than  life;  my  little  bird,  my 
orange. 

"  And  now,  my  soul,  I  have  one  favour  to 
ask  of  you.     Do   you   remember  the  pretty 
childish  song  you  used    to  sing,  sitting   be- 
neath  the  tree  in    your  own  little   garden? 
Ah!   I  remember  it  well;    it  begins  : 
•"What  delight,  O,  what  delight! 
You  have  come,  O  swallow ' — 

"  Do  you  sing  it  yet?  If  so,  think  always 
of  me.  Say  to  yourself,  Constantine  is  my 
swallow;  what  delight  I  shall  have  when  he 
comes.  Then  will  be  true  springtime  for  me; 
then  will  my  heart  bloom  like  the  almond 
tree.  A  thousand  times  your  own 

"  CONSTANTINE." 

Let  no  Englishman  or  American  smile  at 
these  terms  of  endearment;  the  vocabulary 


1 68  Constantine 

of  affection  is  more  beautiful  in  Greek  than 
in  any  other  tongue. 

Aneza  did  not  find  many  opportunities  of 
escape  from  her  mother's  watchful  eye  to 
write  to  Constantine,  but  she  usually  managed 
to  send  him  a  few  words,  crudely  written,  it 
is  true,  but  more  welcome  to  their  recipient 
than  the  finest  rhetoric  could  have  been.  "  I 
have  no  thought  but  for  you,"  she  would  say; 
"  I  am  waiting  for  you  day  and  night;  I  send 
you  a  thousand  kisses."  And  Constantine 
put  each  message  with  the  others,  and  took 
them  out  and  read  them  each  night;  they 
were  his  Bible. 


Chapter    XVI 

And  now  we  are  come  to  the  turning-point 
in  Constantine's  life;  to  the  one  great  event 
which  changed  his  destiny.  One  morning 
he  received  a  letter  whose  envelope  was  di- 
rected in  Aneza's  handwriting.  This  was 
extraordinary,  as  she  invariably  gave  her  mes- 
sages to  her  father,  who  sent  them  under  the 
same  cover  with  his  own  letters  to  the  young 
man. 

"  Ah,  she  has  written  me  a  letter  all  by 
herself,"  said  Constantine,  "what  happiness"; 
and  he  tore  open  the  envelope  with  eager, 
trembling  hands.  He  read  and  did  not  com- 
prehend. Then  he  read  again,  and  sank 
into  a  chair  as  though  stunned,  his  face  pale 
as  death. 

"What's  the  matter,  Constantine?"  asked 
his  friend  the   philosopher,  who  was  in    the 
Greek's  room.     "Good   heavens,    man,   you 
look  like  a  corpse.     Bad  news?" 
169 


170  Constantine 

For  answer  Constantine  held  out  the  letter 
without  speaking. 

"  But  I  can't  read  this,"  said  the  philos- 
opher, glancing  at  the  manuscript.  "  It 's 
written  in  Greek,  and  not  too  plain  at  that." 

"  My  nounos  is  dead,"  replied  Constantine; 
and  having  found  his  voice,  he  gave  way  to  a 
violent  fit  of  sobbing. 

"  Oh,  I  say,"  said  the  other,  putting  his 
arm  around  him,  "  don't  do  that,  old  man; 
we  '11  all  stand  by  you  here  and  help  you  to 
bear  it.  Come  now,  old  fellow,  come  now. 
It  might  have  been  worse,  you  know;  it  might 
have  been  Aneza." 

"You  don't  know  howl  loved  him,"  re- 
plied Constantine.  "  You  don't  understand." 

At  last  he  started  to  his  feet,  and  grasped 
his  friend's  hand. 

"  Leave  me,  dear  friend,"  he  said.  "  I 
want  to  be  alone  with  my  dead."  The  Ger- 
man gave  the  extended  hand  a  long  pressure, 
and  went  from  the  room  on  tiptoe.  Then 
Constantine  read  his  letter  again,  after  which 
he  sat  with  his  head  in  his  hands,  trying  to 
realize  its  meaning.  This  is  what  it  said: 

"  Oh,  my  Constantine !  how  shall  I  tell  you 


Constantine  171 

the  dreadful  news?  Papa  is  dead.  Early 
this  morning  mamma  woke  up  and  found 
papa  breathing  so  heavily  that  she  was  fright- 
ened, and  so  she  got  up  and  lit  a  candle. 
She  called  him  and  shook  him,  but  he  was 
unconscious.  By  the  time  the  doctor  could 
get  to  the  house  he  had  died — heart  disease, 
the  doctor  said.  It  was  all  over  so  quick,  and 
now  we  are  alone — the  house  is  so  dreadful 
without  papa  in  it.  Mamma  says  you  must 
come  home,  and  I  want  you  to  come  too.  I 
will  tell  you  all  about  it  when  you  are  here. 
From  your  heartbroken  Aneza." 

"  He  died  without  my  seeing  him,"  sobbed 
Constantine.  "  My  dear  old  iiounos,  my 
father.  O  God,  he  is  even  now  lying  out 
in  the  graveyard,  and  I,  who  loved  him  so, 
was  not  there  to  kiss  him  for  the  last  time,  or 
to  follow  him  to  the  grave.  Oh,  noune ! 
noune !  you  will  never  know  now  how  much 
I  loved  you,  and  how  hard  I  have  studied  to 
do  you  honour !  " 


Chapter  XVII 

A  month  after  the  receipt  of  Aneza's  letter, 
Constantine  pushed  open  the  big  iron  gate  of 
the  garden  he  knew  so  well,  and  walked  in. 
He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  looked  eagerly 
among  the  trees.  Then  he  hurried  down  the 
walk,  and  peeped  through  into  Aneza's  little 
garden.  Love  is  stronger  than  sorrow,  and 
for  that  first  moment  he  was  thinking  only  of 
his  sweetheart.  But  soon  the  thought  of  his 
nounos  rose  in  his  mind,  and,  hanging  his 
head  like  a  guilty  person,  he  walked  up  to 
the  front  door  and  knocked.  Tremblingly 
he  heard  the  iron  bolt  slide  back,  the  heavy 
door  opened  slowly,  and  Aneza  stood  before 
him  in  the  hall. 

"Aneza!"  he  cried,  springing  forward  to 
catch  her  in  his  arms.  But  the  girl  stepped 
back,  and  put  up  her  right  hand  warningly. 
"  Be  careful,"  she  said,  "  mamma  may  be 
looking."  Constantine  had  dreamed  for  two 
172 


Constantine  173 

years  of  his  first  meeting  with  his  sweetheart 
after  their  long  separation.  The  reality  was 
so  different  from  his  dream!  He  entered  the 
house  with  a  heavier  weight  on  his  heart  than 
he  had  yet  felt,  and  went  to  pay  his  respects 
to  the  Kuria.  He  found  her  dressed  in  the 
deepest  mourning,  which  caused  her  to  look 
even  paler  and  more  angular  than  her  wont. 
She  was  singularly  undemonstrative  to  his 
words  of  condolence  and  affection,  nor  did 
she  express  any  joy  at  his  return.  The  next 
morning  Constantino  proposed  to  go  to  his 
godfather's  grave,  and  asked  Aneza  to  walk 
there  with  him.  The  Kuria  spoke  up  in  a 
hard,  unnatural  voice,  as  though  she  were 
playing  a  part,  and  had  just  heard  her  cue. 

"You  will  have  no  difficulty  in  finding  my 
husband's  grave,"  she  said.  "  I  will  tell  you 
where  it  is.  But  there  is  no  need  that  my 
daughter  should  accompany  you." 

So  Constantine  went  alone  to  the  grave  of 
his  nounos,  and  shed  many  bitter  tears  upon 
it. 

"  Noune  f  Noune!"  he  cried,  "shall  I 
never  see  your  dear  face  again?  Oh,  how 
lonely  I  am  in  the  world  now!  I  have  neither 


174  Constantine 

father  nor  mother,  and  my  only  friend  lies 
here  in  the  dark  grave!  There  is  no  one  to 
speak  a  kind  word  to  me,  now  that  you  are 
dead."  But  the  thought  of  Aneza  again  arose 
in  his  mind,  a  radiant  image  even  among  the 
clouds  of  grief,  and  his  feet  bore  him  almost 
unconsciously  to  the  spot  where  he  had 
kissed  her  on  that  Easter  night.  Thence  he 
walked  back  as  in  a  dream,  imagining  her 
with  him  all  the  way,  till  he  found  himself 
under  the  great  tree  in  the  garden,  where 
she  had  thrown  her  warm  arms  around  him. 

His  second  day  at  the  house  passed  in 
growing  misery,  and  in  loneliness  greater 
than  he  had  dreamed  of.  He  felt  like  a 
stranger  in  the  house.  The  Kuria  did  not 
speak  to  him,  and  Aneza  dared  not.  At 
night  he  retired  early  to  his  chamber,  and 
threw  himself  without  undressing  upon  the 
bed.  But  he  could  not  sleep.  For  hours  he 
tossed  about,  tortured  by  grief,  love,  and 
wounded  pride.  Finally  he  arose,  stole 
down  the  stairs  and  out  of  the  house.  A 
moment  later  he  was  standing  under  the 
great  tree  which  had  been  for  two  years  his 
soul's  trysting-spot.  The  moon  was  shining 


Constantine  175 

brightly,  and  in  places  on  the  white  sanded 
walk  he  saw  again  the  shadows  of  tiny  twigs. 
The  persistence  of  the  most  unreal  and  un- 
substantial things  seemed  to  mock  him.  So 
absorbed  was  he  in  thought  that  he  did  not 
hear  a  light  footfall  on  the  gravel.  But  when 
two  warm  arms  were  thrown  about  his  neck 
and  a  soft,  palpitating  bosom  was  pressed  to 
his,  he  did  not  even  start.  His  dream  had 
been  so  real,  and  now,  O  joy !  it  was  com- 
plete. He  bent  down  and  kissed  the  dewy 
lips  upturned  in  the  shadow. 

"  My  soul !  My  eyes  !  "  he  murmured. 

Who  shall  say  how  long  these  two  lovers 
stood  thus  entranced  in  one  another's  arms? 
Love  is  the  only  good  in  life,  and  the  moments 
of  bliss  are  very  brief  in  a  drear  eternity. 

"But  you're  weeping,  my  light,"  said 
Constantine;  "  my  cheek  feels  that  yours  is 
wet.  Is  it  for  poor  nounos?  Let  us  not  weep 
now.  This  is  what  he  wished,  and  we  have 
a  right  to  our  joy.  If  he  knows,  he  is  rejoi- 
cing with  us." 

"  Oh,  Constantine,  you  don't  know," 
whispered  Aneza,  "  what  a  difference  poor 
papa's  death  has  made.  I  wanted  to  see  you 


176  Constantine 

so  bad  and  tell  you  about  it.  I  heard  you  go 
down  the  stairs,  and  I  followed  you  out. 
But,  oh,  I  am  so  afraid!  Mother  hates  you, 
and  things  are  not  at  all  the  same  now  as 
they  were.  If  you  could  have  only  taken 
your  degree  and  got  started!  Oh,  why  did 
he  die  so  soon  and  leave  us  in  such  trouble?" 

And  Aneza,  burying  her  head  on  Con- 
stantine's  shoulder,  sobbed  violently.  Con- 
stantine could  feel  the  soft  form  trembling  in 
his  arms,  and  his  heart  was  rent  by  mingled 
pity  at  her  grief  and  by  a  terrible  fear  awak- 
ened by  her  words. 

So  immersed  were  the  lovers  in  their  sad 
thoughts  that  they  did  not  hear  the  light 
tread  of  the  Kuria,  who  had  missed  Aneza  and 
stolen  out  to  look  for  her.  She  stood  in  the 
shadow  silently  observing  the  pair. 

"  I  must  be  going  in  now,"  said  Aneza, 
"  mother  will  be  missing  me." 

"Good-night,  my  beloved,"  said  Con- 
stantine; "  whatever  happens,  we  love  each 
other.  Give  me  one  more  kiss  before  you 
go.  After  all,  nothing  but  death  can  come 
between  us;  for  am  I  not  Constantine,  and 
are  you  not  Aneza?  " 


Constantine  177 

"You  shameless  hussy!"  hissed  the  Kuria. 

"It's  mother!"  screamed  Aneza,  and  she 
ran  for  the  house  as  though  at  sight  of  a 
tigress. 

Constantine  removed  his  hat  and  faced  the 
Kuria.  He  was  pale,  and  looked  very  tall  and 
noble  in  the  moonlight.  The  long  pent-up 
torrent  of  hatred  and  maternal  jealousy  broke 
forth  on  him  at  last. 

"  So,  you  viper,  this  is  what  you  learned 
over  in  Germany,  is  it, — living  on  my  daugh- 
ter's money?  A  pretty  scheme  you  've  got  in 
your  head,  haven't  you?  But  you'll  find 
you've  a  different  person  to  deal  with  now 
than  you  had  in  my  husband.  You  have 
been  living  on  the  bread  of  others  so  long, 
you  great  lazy  vagabond,  that  you  expect  the 
thing  to  go  on  forever,  do  you?  I  '11  show 
you  different.  My  daughter  shall  marry  a 
gentleman,  and  the  quicker  you  make  your- 
self scarce  and  go  to  work,  the  better." 

This  was  Aneza's  mother,  and  Constantine 
felt  that  more  than  life  was  at  stake. 

"  What  have  I  ever  done  to  you,  mana,"  he 
pleaded,  "that  you  should  hate  me  so?  I 
have  always  been  respectful  to  you.  I  would 


178  Constantine 

have  loved  you  if  you  had  let  me.  Besides, 
you  should  n't  blame  me  so  much.  It  was 
my  nounos's  wish  that  Aneza  and  I  should 
marry  — 

"Oh,  was  it  indeed!  Strange  that  I  never 
heard  anything  about  it.  Well,  I  'm  Aneza's 
mother,  and  it 's  my  wish  that  Aneza  should 
not  marry  a  beggar  and  a  charity  orphan. 
You  have  lived  long  enough  on  others.  It  is 
time  now  that  you  went  to  work." 

With  that  she  whirled  about  and  was  gone. 
Each  of  the  cruel  words  had  pierced  him  like 
the  stabs  of  a  blunt  knife.  He  wandered  on 
and  on;  as  long  as  darkness  lasted  he  walked, 
as  though  trying  to  flee  from  his  despair. 


Chapter  XVIII 

But  hope  dies  hard  in  the  young.  The  first 
grey  of  dawn  found  Constantine  standing  on 
a  little  hill,  gazing  at  the  leaden  distances  of 
sea.  A  fresh  breeze  blew  out  of  the  east,  and 
cooled  his  aching  brow.  The  sea,  too,  is  a  great 
inspirer  of  hope.  It  is  the  mother  of  enter- 
prise. It  tells  of  change  and  unrest.  Its 
vastness  alone  lifts  us  out  of  our  petty  groove, 
and  inspires  us  to  larger  endeavour.  If  we 
are  not  happy  as  we  are,  we  think,  in  presence 
of  the  sea,  that  there  is  still  hope  for  us  in 
some  other  world,  in  some  other  way.  So 
came  into  the  mind  of  man  that  legend  of 
the  blessed  isles.  Ah,  let  us  not  always  think 
they  are  imaginary!  Perhaps  some  who  have 
sailed  away  have  found  them — who  knows? 

"Aneza  loves  me,"  cried  Constantine  when 

he  saw  the  sea;  "  she  will  wait  for  me.     I  '11 

get  some  work  to  do — something,  anything. 

I  '11  study  night  and    day.     I  will  succeed. 

179 


180  Constantine 

The  world  shall  speak  so  highly  of  me  that 
mana  will  be  ashamed  of  herself." 

Just  then  the  sun's  disk  slid  above  the  rim 
of  the  horizon,  and  the  sea  laughed  and 
blushed  a  rosy  red. 

"  Yes,"  shouted  Constantine,  doubling  his 
fist  and  shaking  it  in  the  air,  "  I  will  succeed! " 


Chapter  XIX 

Why  follow  Constantine's  fruitless  search  for 
employment?  This  is  a  sad  story  that  has 
been  told  again  and  again;  a  history  that  has 
been  lived  in  too  many  cases.  Little  by  little, 
as  he  descended  the  scale  of  occupations,  he 
felt  his  confidence,  even  his  self-esteem,  slip 
away  from  him,  until  at  last  he  came  to  believe 
that  there  was  no  place  for  him  in  all  the 
world.  The  foundations  of  his  education  had 
been  laid  on  a  liberal  scale,  and  he  had  been 
intended  for  a  large  and  honourable  career, 
but  nothing  had  been  finished.  For  practical 
work  in  his  profession  he  required  yet  to 
finish  the  course  in  Germany  and  then  to 
have  at  least  two  years'  training  in  a  lawyer's 
office  in  Athens.  He  was  not,  therefore,  ready 
to  do  anything.  He  had  a  little  money,  from 
the  last  allowance  given  him  by  Spiridon, 
but  gradually  this  dwindled  away.  The  only 
thing  that  remained  to  him  was  the  conscious- 
181 


1 82  Constantine 

ness  that  Aneza  was  waiting  for  him,  and  that, 
somehow  or  other,  he  must  succeed.  One  day 
he  passed  her  in  the  street  in  company  with 
her  mother.  She  flushed  a  conscious  red, 
and  stole  a  glance  at  him  from  her  great 
dark  eyes  that  cheered  him  for  a  week. 
Finally,  when  he  was  about  at  the  end  of  his 
resources  and  nearly  in  despair,  he  met  Bar- 
bandone  on  the  street.  The  latter  had  suc- 
ceeded in  his  wine  business  and  was  prosper- 
ous-looking. 

"  Hail,  Constantine!"  he  cried;  "  how  goes 
it?  When  do  you  return  to  Germany?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Constantine.  "  There  's 
been  a  great  change  since  the  death  of  my 
nounos." 

"So!  So!  "said  Barbandone,  putting  his 
arm  through  the  younger  man's.  "  Come 
over  to  my  place  and  tell  me  all  about  it." 
Constantine  soon  found  himself  seated  in  the 
ex-sailor's  wine-garden.  It  was  a  pleasant 
place,  shaded  by  pine  trees.  At  one  end  was 
a  small  building  facing  the  street.  Within, 
a  dozen  huge  tuns  were  ranged  in  a  row  on 
the  platform — the  faucets  were  even  with  the 
drawer's  head.  People  who  wished  wine  when 


Constantine  183 

Barbandone  was  absent  drew  the  required 
quantity  and  left  the  money  on  the  table. 
Barbandone  never  lost  anything  by  this  con- 
fidence in  his  fellow-citizens.  The  Greek  is 
shrewd  in  business,  but  he  seldom  steals. 

"  How  much  did  the  old  gentleman  leave 
you?"  asked  Barbandone. 

"  Nothing.  I  did  n't  expect  anything.  He 
did  more  than  enough  for  me  as  it  was.  But 
the  Kuria  treats  me  very  cruelly." 

"  So  you  don't  get  on  with  the  Kuria,  eh?" 
asked  Barbandone.  Constantine  said  that  the 
Kuria  had  driven  him  from  the  house,  and 
gave  an  account  of  his  fruitless  search  for 
employment.  Barbandone  crossed  himself 
several  times  during  the  recital,  and  for  a 
long  time  afterwards  sat  thinking;  occasion- 
ally he  ejaculated  "  Boh,  boh,  boh!  " 

"My  boy,"  said  he  finally,  "your  father 
and  godfather  were  both  friends  of  mine,  and 
I  'd  gladly  help  you  if  I  could,  but  I  can't 
offer  you  anything  worthy  of  your  foreign 
education.  There  's  only  one  thing,  if  you 
care  to  take  it.  I  am  opening  a  new  garden 
and  hotel  out  on  the  Kephissia  road.  It  will 
be  a  beautiful  place  for  picnics,  weddings, 


184  Constantine 

parties,  and  the  like.  I  expect  to  gain  much 
money  by  the  enterprise.  If  you  care  to  man- 
age the  place,  I  '11  give  you  sixty  drachmas 
a  month  and  a  share  in  the  proceeds.  If  you 
do  not  like  the  idea,  you  can  make  your 
home  with  me  until  you  get  something  better 
to  do." 

"  I  shall  never  forget  your  kindness,  Bar- 
bandone,"  said  the  young  man.  "  I  '11  accept 
your  proposition  of  a  home  for  the  present, 
for  I  am  come  to  my  last  drachma.  But  I 
owe  it  to  the  memory  of  my  nounos  to  try 
and  find  some  place  where  I  can  use  my  edu- 
cation." 

Thus  began  another  week  of  fruitless 
search,  at  the  end  of  which  Constantine  an- 
nounced that  he  would  accept  the  position 
offered. 

"  I  can  find  time  there  to  study,  and  pre- 
pare for  my  examinations  for  the  bar,"  he 
thought.  So  Constantine  became  the  man- 
ager of  a  road-house  on  the  Kephissia  road; 
but  the  bright  image  of  Aneza  was  a  constant 
inspiration  to  him,  and  he  robbed  himself  of 
half  his  sleep  to  study  law.  When  the  Kuria 


Constantme  185 

heard  where  he  was,  she  sniffed  contemptu- 
ously. 

"  He  has  found  his  level  at  last,"  she  said. 
And  Aneza  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  felt 
ashamed  of  Constantine. 


Chapter  XX 

A  year  passed  away,  and  Constantine  be- 
gan to  think  of  trying  the  examinations 
for  the  bar.  His  studies  in  Germany  had 
made  him  fit  for  effective  work,  and  he  had 
been  spurred  on  by  an  enthusiasm  that  had 
intensified  his  faculties.  There  had  been  no 
communication  with  Aneza  in  the  mean  time. 
Girls  are  more  closely  watched  in  Greece 
than  they  are  in  other  countries.  Moreover, 
he  made  no  attempt  to  see  his  sweetheart. 
He  would  pass  his  examination  brilliantly, 
and  become  a  full-fledged  lawyer,  he  thought. 
He  had  saved  enough  out  of  his  wages  and 
the  business  to  live  for  a  year,  with  economy. 
If  he  needed  more,  Barbandone  would  help 
him,  he  knew,  for  Barbandone  had  been 
strangely  kind  to  him.  Once  established  in 
an  honourable  profession,  no  fear  for  him.  He 
would  astonish  the  city  with  his  skill  and 
eloquence.  Nothing  should  keep  him  down, 
1 86 


Constantine  187 

and  the  very  first  thing  he  would  do  would 
be  to  go  boldly  to  Aneza's  house  and  say  to 
the  Kuria: 

"  See,  I  'm  a  lawyer  now,  and  on  the  high 
road  to  success.  You  can  no  longer  call  me 
a  beggar.  I  love  Aneza,  and  Aneza  loves 
me,  and  it  was  the  wish  of  my  nounos  that 
we  should  marry,"  and  if  she  does  not  treat 
me  kindly,  I  '11  tell  Aneza  in  her  presence, 
"  Do  not  be  discouraged,  my  love.  But  a 
little  while  longer  and  even  mana  will  be 
proud  of  me." 

And  what  had  been  happening  to  Con- 
stantine's  sweetheart  all  this  time?  That  she 
had  not  lived  a  happy  life  one  may  be  sure. 
She  was  sad  at  heart,  and  yet  forced  to  as- 
sume a  gaiety  she  did  not  feel.  When  she 
sighed,  or  when  tears  suffused  her  beautiful 
dark  eyes,  her  mother  would  say  sneeringly: 

"  What  's  the  matter,  Aneza?  Are  you 
grieving  for  your  waiter-boy?" 

One  day,  about  a  year  after  Constantine's 
return,  a  notorious  old  matchmaker  came  to 
the  Kuria  in  great  excitement.  A  splendid 
parti  had  announced  himself  as  a  candidate 
for  Aneza's  hand.  He  had  no  money,  and 


1 88  Constantine 

was  deeply  in  debt,  but  he  was  a  "  nice  young 
man."  He  desired  to  marry  immediately, 
because  his  debts  must  be  paid  and  his  social 
position  kept  up.  This  latter  was  so  high 
that  he  demanded  a  large  proeka,  and  there 
were  few  girls  in  Athens  able  to  aspire  to  his 
hand. 

"What  is  his  position?"  asked  the  Kuria, 
much  interested. 

"  He  is  the  son  of  one  of  our  noblest  fam- 
ilies, and,  although  young,  is  a  lieutenant 
of  cavalry.  You  should  see  him  prancing 
through  the  streets  on  his  fine  horse,  all  in 
his  magnificent  uniform,"  replied  the  match- 
maker. "  Besides,  he  is  a  favourite  at  Court, 
and  has  even  dined  with  the  Royal  Family. 
If  Aneza  marries  him  she  will  get  invitations 
to  all  the  Court  balls.  Perhaps  you  '11  be  in- 
vited yourself — who  knows?  You  have  all 
the  money  you  want  now,  as  everybody 
knows.  High  social  position  is  only  to  be 
obtained  through  the  marriage  of  your 
daughter." 

The  Kuria  was  greatly  impressed,  but  it 
was  not  proper  to  appear  too  anxious. 

"  It  will   at  least   do  no  harm  to  see  the 


Constantine  189 

young  man,"  said  she,  with  dignity.  The 
matchmaker  hobbled  away  much  elated. 
She  felt  a  professional  pride  in  her  calling. 
Also,  the  consummation  of  the  affair  meant 
a  handsome  present  for  herself  as  soon  as 
the  groom  should  get  the  dowry  safely  in 
his  hands.  The  very  next  day  Lieutenant 
Christopher  Skouzes  presented  himself  for 
inspection.  He  was  a  slender  young  blade, 
straight  as  an  arrow,  and  undeniably  hand- 
some. He  was  clad  in  a  uniform  of  European 
design,  and  his  gold-hilted  sword  clanked 
impressively  on  the  floor  as  he  walked.  Edu- 
cated in  Paris,  his  manners  were  irreproach- 
able, and  he  bore  himself  towards  the  Kuria 
with  the  most  flattering  deference. 

"  If  your  ladyship  favours  my  suit,"  said 
he,  with  a  low  bow,  his  hand  over  his  heart, 
"  I  shall  be  as  happy  in  my  mother-in-law 
as  in  my  wife." 

Inquiry  proved  that  the  young  man's  social 
position  was  indeed  irreproachable,  and  that 
he  had  often  been  assigned  to  escort  and 
other  show  duty  by  the  king.  The  Kuria 
made  up  her  mind  without  delay. 

"  This,"  she  said,  "  will  save  Aneza  from 


190  Constantine 

her  infatuation  for  that  waiter-boy.  Once 
she  is  married  I  shall  feel  safe,  but  never  till 
then.  Besides,  we  are  rich.  Why  should  n't 
we  unite  ourselves  with  one  of  the  best 
families?" 

"  Aneza,  I  have  found  a  husband  for  you," 
said  she  to  the  girl,  as  soon  as  she  had  ar- 
rived at  this  determination.  "A  suitable 
husband,  of  high  social  position.  He  is  even 
a  special  favourite  of  the  king.  He  is,  more- 
over, everything  that  a  girl  could  wish  — 
young,  handsome,  and  of  good  disposition." 

Aneza  made  no  reply.  She  so  feared  her 
mother's  contempt  when  reference  was  made 
to  Constantine  that  she  did  not  even  dare  to 
interpose  the  objections  natural  to  a  maiden. 
She  knew  that  the  least  word  would  be  greeted 
with,  "  Oh,  you  're  still  yearning  for  your 
hotel-keeper,  are  you?  " 

As  soon  as  she  found  herself  alone  she 
sobbed,  "  O  Constantine,  Constantine!  What 
would  poor  papa  say  if  he  knew?" 

Aneza  had  not  seen  Constantine  for  several 
months  at  the  time  when  her  mother  an- 
nounced that  a  suitable  husband  had  been 
found.  The  girl  could  not  realize  Constan- 


Constantine  191 

tine's  difficulties,  and  her  nature  was  not  suffi- 
ciently deep  to  have  appreciated  his  grand 
struggle,  had  she  known  of  it.  The  reader 
will  have  perceived  long  ere  this,  it  is  hoped, 
that  the  depth  of  his  love  was  worthy  of  a  far 
nobler  object.  Besides,  the  officer  had  the 
advantage.  He  was  allowed  to  see  Aneza 
every  day,  contrary  to  the  Greek  custom,  for 
the  Kuria  had  an  object  in  view.  All  his 
surroundings  and  appointments  were  honour- 
able, showy,  and  romantic.  Constantine  was 
absent,  in  a  position  menial,  and,  according 
to  Aneza's  unhealthy  views,  disgraceful.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  the  Kuria  was 
Aneza's  only  living  parent,  and  that,  in  Greece, 
the  will  of  a  parent  is  almost  a  supreme  law 
in  the  matter  of  marriage.  So  Constantine's 
sweetheart  yielded  to  circumstances  and  to 
her  mother's  stronger  will,  and  consented  to 
become  the  officer's  bride.  After  once  having 
made  up  her  mind,  she  soon  began  to  think 
proudly  of  her  betrothed,  and  to  regard  with 
pleasure  the  prospect  of  her  early  union  with 
so  gallant  a  cavalier,  even  if  she  occasionally 
let  fall  a  tear  and  sighed: 

"Oh,  my    Constantine,  how  unhappy   we 


192  Constantine 

are!  "  She  regarded  the  emotion  with  satis- 
faction, as  doing  credit  to  her  heart.  She 
even  imagined  herself  as  the  sufferer,  and  at 
times  felt  sorry  for  herself. 

The  betrothal  was  accomplished  without 
delay,  and  some  of  the  groom's  irreproach- 
able friends  and  relatives  were  present  on  the 
occasion,  to  the  Kuria's  unspeakable  delight. 
She  imagined  herself,  for  the  time  being,  as 
good  as  at  the  palace  itself. 


Chapter   XXI 

The  news  of  the  betrothal  came  to  Con- 
stantine  on  the  very  day  before  his  intended 
examination.  He  was  sitting  at  the  desk  in  the 
cafe1  of  the  inn,  with  a  law  book  on  his  knee. 
Two  guests  came  in,  and  took  seats  at  a 
table.  One  of  them  tapped  sharply  on  the 
floor  with  the  point  of  his  sword.  Constantine 
looked  up.  They  were  cavalry  officers,  and 
their  horses  were  being  held  outside  by  a 
mounted  orderly.  Constantine  observed  all 
this  at  a  glance,  and  then  went  on  with  his 
reading;  for  one  of  his  two  waiters  had  just 
hurried  in  from  the  garden  to  take  the  orders. 
Suddenly,  out  of  the  confused  murmur  of 
conversation,  of  which  Constantine  was 
scarcely  conscious  in  his  absorption,  there 
came  a  name  that  he  would  have  heard  had 
it  been  whispered. 

From  the  indistinct  flow  of  talk  one  word 
sounded  out  clear  as  a  bell,  and  sent  all  the 


194  Constantine 

blood  in  his  body  rushing  back  upon  his 
heart :  that  word  was  "  Aneza."  Constantine 
looked  up,  pale  as  death,  his  every  faculty  on 
the  alert  now. 

"  They  say  she  's  uselessly  rich,"  said  one 
of  the  officers. 

"  She  can't  be  too  rich  for  Christo,"  said 
the  other;  "  he  '11  make  her  parades  fly  fast 
enough." 

"  He  '11  eat  them." 

"  There  's  a  boy  for  you  !  Do  you  remem- 
ber the  time  that  he  feigned  insanity  to 
escape  his  creditors?" 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! " 

"What '11  he  do  with  Josie?  " 

"  Oh,  he  '11  give  her  a  slice  of  the  proeka 
to  keep  her  quiet.  Never  fear  for  Christo; 
he  's  a  smooth  lad." 

"  Ah,  she 's  a  stunner,"  said  the  elder, 
raising  his  eyes  to  the  ceiling  and  smacking 
his  lips  appreciatively. 

"  Here,  boy,  where  are  you?  Two  little 
wines.  Here  's  to  Josie." 

"  I  'm  with  you,"  said  the  other,  raising  his 
glass,  "and — what's  her  name?  Josie  and 
Aneza,  though  I  '11  warrant  Josie  's  the  finer 


Constantine  195 

woman  of  the  two.  Ah,  if  our  mistresses  only 
\\z.&proeka!  This  matrimony  's  a  bore." 

Constantine  rose,  and  his  law  book  slid  to 
the  floor.  He  came  from  behind  the  desk 
and  walked  up  to  the  two  officers;  he  was 
trembling,  and  his  lips  were  white. 

"  May  I  ask  you,"  he  inquired,  "  to  what 
Aneza  you  refer?  " 

The  officers  set  down  their  half-emptied 
glasses  and  stared  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  Well,  this  is  too  good,"  said  one. 

"The  impudence  of  the  fellow,"  said  the 
other. 

"I  asked  you  a  civil  question,"  persisted 
Constantine,  "  and  I  propose  to  be  answered." 

"  Off  with  you,"  said  the  younger  officer, 
"  or  I  '11  call  in  my  groom  to  kick  you." 

Constantine  struck  him  in  the  face.  The 
officer  sprang  to  his  feet  with  an  oath,  and 
drew  his  sword.  But  before  he  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  use  it  Constantine  snatched  the  older 
man's  weapon  from  its  sheath,  and  attacked 
him  with  great  fury.  The  civilian's  training 
aided  him  in  his  blind  rage.  Ere  the  officer 
realized  that  he  had  met  a  formidable  antago- 
nist, he  received  a  wound  in  the  sword-arm, 


196  Constantine 

and  felt  his  weapon  fly  from  his  hand.  Then 
Constantine  drove  both  of  them  pell-mell 
from  the  room;  but  he  did  not  pursue  his 
advantage.  On  the  contrary,  he  dropped  the 
sword  to  earth,  and  started  on  a  run  for 
Athens. 

"After  him,  quick,"  cried  the  younger 
officer;  "cut  him  down;  don't  you  see  my 
arm  's  disabled?  " 

"  Better  say  nothing  about  it,"  replied  his 
comrade;  "the  other  fellows  would  laugh  at 
us.  Here,  take  off  your  coat  and  I  '11  bind 
up  your  arm  with  my  handkerchief." 

"He's  a  devil,"  said  the  wounded  man; 
"a  crazy  devil";  and  they  picked  up  their 
weapons,  mounted  their  steeds,  and  rode 
away. 


Chapter  XXII 

Twenty  minutes  later  Constantine  rushed 
into  Barbandone's  place  in  town.  He  was  hat- 
less  and  dusty,  and  looked  wild  as  to  his  eyes. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  cried,  catching  Barbandone 
by  the  shoulder,  "  tell  me,  is  it  she?  " 

"Saints  preserve  us!"  exclaimed  the  wine 
dealer,  "  has  the  boy  gone  mad?" 

Constantine  shook  him  fiercely. 

"  Answer  me,  answer  me,"  he  implored. 

Barbandone  led  him  to  a  seat  and  pushed 
him  gently  into  it. 

"  Now,  tell  me  what  you  have  on  your 
mind,"  he  said.  "  Poor  boy,  I  fear  you  have 
been  studying  too  hard." 

"  It  's  about  Aneza,"  explained  Constan- 
tine; "tell  me,  is  she  to  be  married?" 

"Why,    of    course,"    replied    Barbandone, 
innocently.     "Didn't  you   know — to  Chris- 
topher Skouzes.      Christo,  the  beautiful,  they 
call  him.     He  's  a  lieu — " 
197 


198  Constantine 

But  Constantine  was  gone. 

"  Phew! "  said  Barbandone,  looking  after 
the  retreating  form;  and  for  a  long  time  he 
sat  thinking. 

Constantine  hurried  to  his  former  home  and 
knocked  furiously  on  the  door.  Some  one 
ran  down  the  hall  and  slid  the  bolt.  He 
pushed  the  door  open  rudely  and  almost 
fell  inside.  "Holy  Virgin!"  exclaimed  the 
cook.  Constantine  heard  voices  upstairs. 
He  bounded  up,  and  in  the  reception-room 
he  found  her  in  company  with  her  mother. 
On  the  table  lay  a  bridal  dress  and  veil,  and 
other  unaccustomed  finery  was  scattered  about 
upon  chairs.  Aneza  had  tied  a  pink  scarf 
about  her  head,  and  her  eyes  were  bright  with 
unwonted  excitement.  She  was  maddeningly 
beautiful.  She  gave  a  little  scream  when  she 
saw  Constantine.  She  noticed  at  a  glance 
that  he  had  grown  thin. 

"  Aneza,"  he  cried,  "  I  've  come  to  save 
you.  They  shall  not  make  you  marry  any 
one  but  me.  I  Ve  studied  day  and  night, 
and  now  I'm  ready  to  become  a  lawyer. 
Don't  be  afraid  of  them,  Aneza;  they  can't 
make  you  marry  against  your  will." 


Constantine  199 

"  Now,  what 's  he  talking  about,"  broke  in 
the  Kuria's  strident  voice, — "  about  marrying 
against  one's  will?  And  who  are  'they,'  any- 
way? My  daughter,  sir,  is  marrying  the  man 
of  her  choice — a  man  of  her  own  social  posi- 
tion. And  you  '11  kindly  leave  the  house  at 
once,  or  I  shall  call  in  the  police.  We  have 
ordered  the  wine  of  your  master,  so  there  is 
no  need  of  your  coming  here." 

Constantine  paid  no  heed  to  the  taunt.  He 
turned  to  Aneza. 

"  I  '11  not  believe  what  she  says.  She  was 
always  hard  and  cruel,  and  always  hated  me. 
Let  me  know  from  your  own  lips.  Do  you 
love  this  other  man?  You  know  it  was  your 
father's  dearest  wish  that  we  should  marry. 
If  you  should  marry  any  one  else,  you  would 
be  opposing  the  wishes  of  the  dead.  You 
said  you  loved  me  so  often.  Was  it  not 
true?" 

Aneza  stood  trembling,  with  eyes  cast 
down. 

"You  do  not  speak.  Don't  be  afraid, 
Aneza.  I  've  loved  you  every  minute.  I  've 
suffered  humiliation  for  you.  Every  day  I  've 
lived  a  year  for  you.  Never  for  a  moment 


2OO  Constantine 

have  I  doubted  you.  And  this  other  man — 
You  must  see  the  difference  between  his  love 
and  mine.  My  love  for  you  is  all-powerful. 
It  will  make  me  a  great  man  with  you.  With- 
out you,  it  will  kill  me." 

"  Speak  to  this  idiot,  Aneza,  and  send  him 
about  his  business.  Tell  him  that  you  are 
to  be  married  to-morrow  to  the  man  you 
love." 

"  Say  it  is  not  so,"  cried  Constantine,  "  say 
it  is  not  so!  Or  if  it  is,  let  me  hear  it  from 
your  own  mouth.  Yes,"  he  continued,  sud- 
denly lowering  his  voice,  and  speaking  with 
forced  calmness,  "  if  you  love  this  man,  say 
so,  and  I  '11  go  away  forever.  Do  you  love 
him,  Aneza?" 

Aneza,  without  looking  up,  shrugged  her 
shoulders  and  murmured,  "What  can  I  do?" 

Constantine  turned  quickly  and  walked 
from  the  room.  His  boots  sounded  heavy 
on  the  stairs  as  he  went  down. 

"  Glory  to  God,  that 's  over! "  sighed  the 
Kuria,  piously. 

"  Oh,  mana,  was  n't  it  dreadful,"  said  Aneza, 
shivering;  "  I  did  n't  think  he  would  feel  so 
bad." 


Constantine  201 

"He  wants  your  money,"  explained  her 
mother.  "  When  one  has  plotted  all  his  life 
for  a  fortune,  it  is  pretty  hard  to  see  it  slip 
out  of  his  clutches  all  at  once." 


Chapter  XXIII 

Barbandone  was  sitting  in  his  garden  when 
Constantine  hurried  past. 

"  Constantine,"  he  called;  "Constantine!" 
No  answer.  He  sprang  to  his  feet,  ran  into 
the  road,  and  seized  the  young  man  by  the 
arm.  "  Where  are  you  going  so  fast,  my 
brother?  " 

"What?" 

"  Where  are  you  going  so  fast?  " 

"  Oh,  yes;  where  am  I  going  so  fast?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  asked  you,"  said  Barban- 
done; "and  where  is  your  hat?  You  look 
like  a  wild  man." 

"  Like  a  wild  man,"  repeated  Constantine, 
putting  his  hand  mechanically  to  his  head. 
Barbandone  gazed  at  him  for  a  moment  sor- 
rowfully, then  put  his  own  hat  on  Constan- 
tine's  head.  The  act  of  kindness  brought 
back  the  young  man's  wandering  senses. 

"Thank  you,  Barbandone,"  said  he;  "I 
202 


Constantine  203 

want  to  be  alone.  O  God!  O  God!  "  And 
he  hurried  away. 

Barbandone  went  slowly  back  to  the  gar- 
den, shaking  his  head  and  crossing  himself. 

"That  oath,"  he  muttered,  "that  terrible 
oath." 

Constantine  wandered  far  from  the  city 
again  that  night,  up  the  side  of  Mount 
Hymettus.  True  to  the  instincts  of  the 
Greek,  he  sought  consolation  in  solitude, 
and  in  communion  with  Nature.  He  thought 
over  all  his  past  life — the  kindness  of  his 
godfather,  his  studies  in  Germany.  The 
moon  and  the  stars  helped  him,  as  they  had 
helped  his  ancestors  thousands  of  years  before. 
They  were  so  calm,  they  soothed  him;  they 
were  so  great,  they  strengthened  him.  The 
sea  air  also  blew  upon  his  brow  and  cooled 
the  fever.  When  morning  came  again,  he 
had  resolved  to  live  up  to  his  godfather's 
memory,  and  to  be  a  great  man  without 
Aneza.  He  thought  also  of  his  own  father, 
lying  there  in  his  lonely  grave  in  the  Isle  of 
Andros,  and  determined  to  make  a  brave 
fight  for  the  honour  of  his  own  name  and 
family. 


204  Constantine 

"  I  will  stay  out  here  in  the  wilderness,"  he 
said,  "  with  the  mountains  and  the  stars  till 
she  is  married;  then  I  will  go  back  and  begin 
again.  They  shall  all  see  their  mistake.  They 
shall  be  sorry  for  this." 

But  when  he  would  feel  strongest,  when  he 
would  set  his  teeth  and  throw  out  his  chest, 
the  thought  of  Aneza  would  force  itself  upon 
him,  and  he  would  see  again  her  dark,  oval 
face  and  glorious  eyes,  and  he  would  even 
seem  to  feel  her  ripe  lips  warm  upon  his  own; 
then  he  would  fall  as  one  stricken  down,  with 
his  face  in  the  dust,  and  moan. 

All  that  day  he  passed  without  food  and 
drink. 

"  Now  they  are  being  married,"  he  would 
say;  "  now  they  are  putting  the  orange  wreath 
about  her  brow — my  love,  my  little  love!  Now 
they  are  dancing  with  the  groom,  and  I  am 
not  he.  Now  the  maidens  are  making  merry 
with  her,  and  she  does  not  blush  for  me.  Oh, 
God,  let  me  die!  " 

When  the  bridal  night  came,  he  thought  of 
his  love  in  the  arms  of  another,  and  his  suf- 
ferings seemed  greater  than  he  could  bear. 
The  preceding  night  he  had  prayed,  now  he 


Constantine  205 

cursed.  Again  the  better  man  within  him 
rose,  and  again  he  remembered  his  great 
resolve. 

When  Barbandone  came  into  his  garden 
early  in  the  morning,  he  found  Constantine 
sitting  under  a  tree.  He  was  bending  over  a 
table,  his  face  in  his  hands.  Barbandone 
shook  him  softly  and  he  looked  up.  His 
face  was  pale  and  haggard,  his  eyes  blood- 
shot. He  shivered  as  with  a  chill.  The  wine 
dealer  said  not  a  word,  but  hurrying  inside, 
soon  appeared  with  a  cup  of  hot  coffee  and  a 
biscuit.  These  he  gave  to  Constantine,  who 
ate  and  drank;  after  which  he  took  the  young 
man,  led  him  into  a  bedroom  above  the  wine- 
store,  and  locked  the  door.  Then  he  began 
to  talk  very  fast,  fearing  that  if  he  paused, 
the  memory  of  that  dreadful  oath  would 
weaken  his  resolve.  The  whole  story  of  the 
cistern,  the  ten  thousand  drachmas,  the  oath, 
was  told. 

"  I  would  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
affair,"  added  Barbandone,  "  but  I  was  crazy 
with  love  for  my  Sophia,  and  I  saw  no  other 
way  to  win  her.  It  was  not  the  ten  thousand 
drachmas  he  was  offering  me,  you  see,  but 


206  Constantine 

Sophia.  And  I  took  a  paper  out  of  the  cis- 
tern which  shows  plainly  who  all  that  money 
belonged  to.  I  could  not  read  at  the  time, 
but  I  have  learned  letters  since,  and  I  've 
made  out  the  most  of  it.  I  would  have 
shown  you  this  at  first,  but  I  did  n't  know 
what  it  was.  Then  by  the  time  I  had  learned 
to  read,  my  Yannaki  came,  and  afterwards  the 
little  girl,  and  I  was  afraid  the  terrible  curse 
would  fall  upon  my  children.  But  I  said  in 
the  oath,  'provided  I  'm  not  committing  any 
crime.'  I  don't  fear  the  curse  so  much  now, 
for  I  'm  sure  we  were  committing  a  crime 
against  you." 

Constantine's  eyes  had  been  wandering 
around  the  room  at  first.  Now  he  stared  at 
Barbandone  like  one  in  a  trance.  The  latter 
opened  an  old  leather  trunk  in  the  corner  of 
the  room,  and  took  therefrom  a  yellow  paper, 
which  had  fallen  nearly  in  two  at  one  of  its 
folds.  He  opened  this,  and  smoothed  it  out 
with  much  respect  on  the  bed  by  the  side  of 
Constantine. 

"  Read,"  said  the  wine  dealer,  tracing  the 
lines  with  his  fat  finger.  Constantine  read 
mechanically,  like  a  child  reciting  a  lesson. 


Constantine  207 

Now,  if  this  were  a  romance  instead  of  a 
record  of  events,  we  should  give  word  for 
word  the  contents  of  the  paper,  and  should 
accompany  the  ostensible  translation  by  a 
copy  of  the  original  document  in  Greek. 
By  such  devices  as  these  romances  are 
often  rendered  more  specious  than  reality 
itself.  The  truth  of  the  matter  is,  how- 
ever, that  Constantine  carried  the  paper  away 
with  him,  as  we  shall  shortly  see,  and  no 
doubt  lost  it,  for  Barbandone  never  saw  it 
again. 

We  must  therefore  trust  to  the  wine  mer- 
chant's memory,  according  to  which  the  paper 
contained  a  brief  history  of  various  extremely 
profitable  voyages  in  a  brig  called  the  Adia, 
eighteen  thousand  kilos  burthen.  In  the  year 
1802,  for  example,  a  cargo  of  wheat  had  been 
taken  through  the  English  blockade  of  the 
Spanish  coast,  and  sold  at  an  enormous  price 
inhabitants  of  a  besieged  city.  The  writer 
to  the  explained  that,  owing  to  the  great 
amoun  of  Spanish  silver  dollars  taken  in  at  the 
time,  he  did  not  stop  to  count  them,  but 
divided  themaccording  to  fezfuls — one  fezful 
to  each  of  the  crew,  three  fezfuls  to  himself, 


208  Constantine 

and  so  on  till  each  man  had  his  share  (so 
Barbandone  says).  There  was  also  a  brief  ac- 
account  of  a  fight  with  a  pirate  ship  off  the  coast 
of  Morocco,  followed  by  the  capture  and  de- 
struction of  the  pirates.  Constantine's  grand- 
father took  possession  of  the  chiefs  sword  with 
a  jewelled  hilt,  and  much  other  rich  booty  fell 
to  his  share,  including  strings  of  pearls,  dia- 
monds, etc.  Fearing  confiscation  by  the 
Turkish  authorities,  he  buried  this  booty  with 
great  secrecy  in  his  cistern  at  Poros.  It 
amounted  to  about  five  hundred  thousand 
drachmas,  the  money  being  mostly  in  gold 
dovpia  (doubloons)  and  silver  colonata  (Span- 
ish dollars  with  two  columns). 

Among  other  things  taken  from  the  pirate, 
evidently  stolen  from  some  church,  were  four 
immense  candlesticks.  Three  of  these  the 
Poriote  captain  had  melted  into  bars,  and  the 
other  he  had  set  up  in  the  church  of  the 
Virgin  at  Tenos,  to  whose  assistance  he  at- 
tributed his  success  in  the  battle.  Barban- 
done remembered  distinctly  that  the  paper 
ended  with  the  following  words: 

"  In  case  of  my  death  this  property  belongs 
to  my  son  Loukas,  whom  I  have  instructed  to 


Constantine  209 

leave  it  untouched  until  such  time  as  he  can 
remove  it  safely  and  enjoy  it  without  fear. 
In  the  name  of  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy 
Ghost.  Amen.  CARILAOS  DIEMEZES." 

Constantine  read  through  to  the  end,  as 
though  he  did  not  hear,  sighed  deeply,  and 
sat  for  several  minutes  staring  vacantly.  At 
last  he  started  violently,  snatched  the  curious 
document,  and  read  the  last  part  of  it  again. 
Then  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  shouted, 
"  'This  property  belongs  to  my  son  Loukas'! 
If  it  belonged  to  my  father,  it  belonged  to  me. 
Oh,  why  did  n't  I  know  of  this  before?  Too 
late,  too  late!"  He  fell  into  a  chair  and  rocked 
to  and  fro,  moaning,  "Too  late,  too  late!" 

"Come,  come,"  said  Barbandone,  "just 
give  this  to  a  lawyer,  and  he  '11  see  that  you 
have  your  rights;  you  '11  be  revenged  on  the 
lot  of  them." 

"  I  don't  want  revenge;  I  want  Aneza. 
Too  late,  too  late!  " 

Barbandone  went  to  the  young  man's  side, 
and  in  his  rough  way  tried  to  soothe  him, 
but  all  in  vain.  From  that  moment  Con- 
stantine's  excitement  increased.  Finally  he 
burst  out  laughing.  "  That  was  funny,  was  n't 


2io  Constantine 

it,  Barbandone?"  he  cried;  "You  knowing  I 
was  so  rich,  and  all  the  world  thinking  me 
poor." 

Barbandone  crossed  himself,  and  tears  came 
into  his  eyes. 

"A  fine  joke  indeed;  yes,  curse  you!" 
shouted  Constantine,  springing  to  his  feet, 
his  lips  turning  white.  "  You  have  robbed 
me  of  my  love,  of  my  love,  and  I  will  choke 
your  life  out  of  you!"  Ere  Barbandone  could 
utter  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  he  felt  him- 
self seized  by  the  throat  and  hurled  against 
the  wall. 

"Holy  Mother!"  gasped  Barbandone. 

The  violent  physical  exertion  for  the  mo- 
ment called  back  the  unfortunate  young  man's 
wandering  senses. 

"  Forgive  me,  Barbandone,"  he  said;  "  my 
brain  is  on  fire.  So  my  nounos  was  a  thief 
and  a  swindler,  was  he?  My  dear  old  nounos; 
O  God!" 

"Come,  come,"  pleaded  Barbandone;  "we 
mustn't  be  too  hard  on  him;  blood  is  thicker 
than  water,  you  know." 

Constantine's  eye  caught  the  paper  on  the 
floor,  where  it  had  fallen.  He  picked  it  up. 


Constantine  211 

"Too  late,  too  late! "  he  screamed,  rushing 
from  the  room. 

Barbandone  followed,  calling  vainly.  The 
young  man  strode  on,  talking  to  himself.  He 
paused  with  clenched  fists,  then  he  hurried 
forward  again.  When  Barbandone  finally 
overtook  him  he  was  horrified  to  hear  that 
Constantine  was  blaspheming  in  the  most 
impious  manner.  He  was  calling  down  curses 
in  turn  upon  the  Kuria,  Aneza,  and  her  hus- 
band, and  upon  Spiridon's  soul.  Barbandone 
walked  by  his  side,  trying  to  reason  with  him. 

"  Constantine,  Constantine,  don't  you  hear 
me,  your  old  friend  Barbandone?  Come, 
come;  don't  go  on  like  this.  Come  back  to 
the  house  with  me,  there  's  a  good  boy,  and 
let 's  talk  it  over." 

At  last,  partly  leading  him  and  partly  by 
entreaty,  he  took  Constantine  back  to  the 
house,  and  induced  him  to  go  upstairs  and 
lie  down  on  the  bed.  Barbandone  came 
downstairs,  crossing  himself  repeatedly. 

He  was  met  at  the  lower  door  by  a  woman 
with  an  oily  complexion  and  a  huge  stomach, 
who  walked  with  a  waddle. 

"What  is  it,  my  love?"  said  she. 


212  Constantine 

"Poor  Constantine,"  replied  Barbandone, 
"  he  is  gone  mad  because  Aneza  is  married 
to  another.  How  sad  it  must  be  to  lose  one 
we  love! " 

The  woman  with  an  oily  complexion  and  a 
huge  stomach  had  once  been  Sophia  Vlakos, 
the  irresistible. 

"Poor  fellow,  we  must  give  him  a  good 
dinner  and  try  to  cheer  him  up." 

Barbandone  was  busy  with  customers  for 
the  next  hour  or  so,  and  the  good-hearted 
Sophia  was  occupied  in  preparing  a  tempting 
meal  for  Constantine.  Being  an  Andriote, 
she  was  a  famous  cook,  and  believed  that  a 
good  dinner  was  a  cure  for  all  ills.  When 
she  went  up  to  call  Constantine  the  room  was 
empty.  From  that  time  on  he  disappeared 
from  the  eyes  of  those  who  knew  him  in 
Athens.  Friends,  in  that  sense  of  the  term 
which  implies  deep  enough  interest  to  expend 
money  and  time  in  searching  for  him,  he  had 
not;  mother  and  father  he  had  never  known. 
Barbandone  had  wished  to  befriend  him,  but 
experienced  a  feeling  of  relief  when  he  did 
not  return.  He  felt  guilty  because  of  the 


Constantine  213 

part  he  had  taken,  and  Constantine's  presence 
was  a  continual  reproach  to  him. 

To  those  who  inquired,  Kuria  Leonidas 
explained  that  the  young  man  had  aspired  to 
the  hand  of  Aneza,  and  had  left  the  country 
through  chagrin.  To  which  her  gossip  friends 
replied,  "Poh,  poh,  poh!  "  with  an  inflection 
which  made  the  expression  correspond  in 
meaning  to  our  "  The  very  idea!  " 


Chapter  XXIV 

About  two  years  after  Constantine's  disap- 
pearance, a  small  party  of  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen were  passing  along  an  unfrequented 
road  in  Boeotia.  That  they  were  people 
much  out  of  the  ordinary  in  that  region 
was  evident  from  their  appearance.  They 
were,  in  the  first  place,  mounted  upon  horses 
of  great  beauty  and  spirit  —  a  thing  itself 
sufficient  to  attract  attention  in  a  land  of 
donkeys.  In  the  second  place,  although  the 
men  wore  fustanellas,  these  were  spotlessly 
clean,  and  the  garments  of  the  entire  party 
were  of  rich  material.  There  was  some- 
thing in  the  bearing  of  these  people,  too, 
which  would  have  impressed  an  observer  used 
to  the  ways  of  the  world  with  the  idea  that 
these  were  persons  of  rank;  and  he  would 
not  have  been  mistaken,  for  at  the  head  of 
the  procession  rode  two  of  the  most  interest- 
ing characters  in  modern  history,  a  man  and 
214 


Constantine  215 

a  woman.  The  former,  like  his  male  com- 
panions, wore  the  well-known  fustanella.  The 
latter  was  also  in  Greek  costume,  and  a  jaunty 
red  fez  with  a  long  tassel  adorned  her  head. 
She  was  a  young  matron  with  a  well-developed 
figure;  her  face  was  beautiful,  and  yet  so  good 
that  the  one  who  looked  forgot  the  beauty 
and  thought  only  of  the  goodness.  Her 
complexion  was  florid,  and  the  fairness  of 
her  skin  betrayed  the  fact  that  she  was  not  of 
Southern  blood.  The  man  who  rode  by  her 
side  sat  very  erect  upon  his  horse.  He  was 
something  over  forty,  with  broad  shoulders 
and  a  manly  chest;  his  abundant  hair  was 
chestnut  in  colour,  and  his  moustache  of  a 
reddish  brown;  he  was  otherwise  clean-shaven, 
and  his  fair  cheeks  were  thin  and  somewhat 
colourless. 

When  he  spoke,  his  words  were  received 
with  the  greatest  deference,  and  his  slightest 
suggestion  was  considered  a  command.  But  he 
seldom  spoke  in  terms  of  authority.  His  voice 
was,  on  the  contrary,  pleasantly  modulated. 
His  eyes  were  kindly,  and  their  restless  glances 
reminded  one  of  the  shifting  sunshine  some- 
times reflected  from  moving  water. 


21 6  Constantine 

"  I  will  never  believe,"  he  was  saying  to  his 
companion,  "  that  the  history  of  Greece  lies 
all  in  the  past.  Centuries  of  barbarism  and 
oppression  have  swept  the  toilers  and  flocks 
from  these  plains,  have  destroyed  the  ancient 
cities,  but  the  Greek  nation  still  lives.  Greeks 
have  had  their  tongues  cut  out  as  punishment 
for  speaking  their  language,  but  that  language 
has  come  to  us  out  of  the  remotest  antiquity — 
the  only  one  of  the  ancient  tongues  that  still 
exists  in  a  distinctive  form.  The  flower  of 
the  Hellenic  youth  has  been  snatched  away 
and  educated  at  the  Moslem  court,  yet  the 
spirit  of  liberty  has  never  died  in  Greece. 
Hordes  of  barbarians  have  overrun  the  coun- 
try; the  young  men  have  been  butchered,  and 
the  maidens  carried  away  to  harems,  yet  the 
strain  of  Greek  blood  has  never  run  dry.  And 
now  this  people  has  a  glorious  future,  because 
it  has  a  glorious  mission;  in  all  the  years  of 
oppression  it  represented  Christianity  and 
progress,  while  its  oppressors  stood  for  bar- 
barism and  vice.  The  Greek  civilisation 
to-day  is  the  hope  of  the  East.  If  I  can  do 
anything  to  restore  the  ancient  splendour,  I 


Constantine  217 

shall  be  happier  than  the  greatest  monarch 
on  earth." 

As  he  warmed  with  his  subject,  the  speak- 
er's eyes  brightened,  his  gestures  became 
nervous,  his  whole  air  excited.  There  are 
those  who  say  that  he  was  an  enthusiast  and 
a  dreamer.  There  are  others  who  claim  he 
was  rich  in  theory,  but  impatient  and  pre- 
mature in  practice.  It  is  not  safe  to  speak 
ill  of  him  to-day  in  the  country  districts  of 
Greece. 

The  reverie  which  followed  the  above  out- 
burst of  enthusiasm  continued  for  several 
moments,  and  was  interrupted  at  last  by  his 
companion's  sweet  and  sympathetic,  "God  is 
with  us,  my  love,  and  when  He  is  with  us, 
who  shall  be  against  us?  "  It  was  evident  by 
the  way  in  which  she  looked  at  him,  that  one 
person  at  least  believed  in  him  with  all  her 
heart. 

As  the  cavalcade  proceeded,  one  of  the 
riders  announced  that  he  heard  music. 
None  of  the  others  had  heard  it,  but  soon 
after,  the  sound  of  a  tune,  shrill  and  monot- 
onous, came  faintly  to  the  ears  of  all. 


ii  8  Constantine 

"  It  is  the  shepherd's  pipe,"  said  one. 

"A  rural  wedding,  probably,"  said  another. 

"Lieutenant!  "  called  the  enthusiast. 

A  young  officer  rode  up  and,  sweeping 
his  hat  from  his  head,  bent  low  over  the  sad- 
dle-bow. 

"  We  would  see  this  wedding  —  if  wedding 
it  be  —  and  not  interrupt  it.  I  do  not  wish 
to  be  known.  Some  of  you  ride  on  ahead." 

The  bow  was  repeated  and  the  hat  replaced, 
after  which  the  speaker  and  his  fair  companion 
were  quickly  surrounded  by  the  rest  of  the 
company. 

The  music  became  shriller  and  shriller,  and 
ere  long  the  cavalcade,  turning  around  the 
side  of  a  steep  hill,  at  whose  foot  they  were 
riding,  came  upon  a  strange  spectacle.  About 
twenty  shepherds  in  a  straggling  line  were 
dancing  along  the  road.  They  were  dressed 
in  white  woollen  jackets,  white  leggings,  and 
scanty  fustanellas  of  the  same  colour.  At 
their  head  pranced  two  of  their  number  with 
fantastic  steps,  playing  the  same  double  pipes 
that  cost  Marsyas  his  skin.  One  of  the  shep- 
herds wore  a  green  wreath  upon  his  head. 
About  twenty  huts,  of  boughs,  roofed  with 


Constantine  219 

skins,  were  scattered  along  a  gentle  slope  at 
varying  distances  from  each  other.  Several 
huge  kettles  for  the  boiling  of  milk  sat  upon 
the  ground,  and  on  a  level  place  a  corral  had 
been  constructed  for  confining  the  sheep  at 
night.  At  sight  of  so  many  strangers  the 
music  ceased,  and  the  shepherds  huddled  to- 
gether as  though  in  fear. 

"Hail,  Christian  brothers!"  cried  the 
lieutenant,  lifting  his  hat.  "  We  are  good 
Greeks,  like  yourselves,  from  Athens.  We 
are  come  in  time  to  see  a  merry  gathering, 
and  ask  leave  to  join  you,  and  to  drink  the 
health  of  the  bride  and  groom,  if  this  be  a 
wedding." 

One  of  the  boldest  stepped  out  from  among 
the  shepherds,  and  commenced  a  series  of 
questions  of  the  most  personal  and  searching 
nature,  inspired  partly  by  caution  and  partly 
by  bucolic  curiosity.  Satisfactory  answers 
were  given:  "  The  strangers  were  a  company 
of  Athenians  escorting  a  very  rich  effendi 
and  his  wife,  who  were  travelling  to  Thebes 
on  pleasure,"  etc.  Before  the  questioning 
was  finished  an  immense  number  of  children, 
for  so  small  a  village,  came  running  from  one 


lio  Constantine 

of  the  most  distant  of  the  huts,  and  gathered 
about  in  a  semi-circle.  The  Athenians  were 
finally  warmly  invited  to  dismount.  The 
ladies  were  directed  to  the  hut  from  which 
the  children  had  come,  and  about  which 
was  collected  a  throng  of  girls  and  women. 
There  they  were  told  they  would  find  the 
new-made  bride  receiving  the  congratulations 
of  her  friends.  They  set  off  in  that  direc- 
tion, therefore,  and  as  they  proved  the  greater 
attraction,  they  were  followed  by  the  entire 
pack  of  youngsters  —  the  latter  silent  and 
breathless  with  wonder.  The  men  joined  the 
shepherds,  the  pipes  of  Pan  again  tuned  up, 
and  the  procession  was  resumed  to  the  hut 
of  the  koumbaros,  where  a  special  goatskin  of 
wine  was  awaiting  the  occasion.  Here  all 
formed  in  line,  hand  in  hand;  the  pipes  con- 
tinued and  dancing  began.  One  after 
another  of  the  shepherds  headed  the  line, 
leading  it  continually  around  in  a  circle. 
Each  new  leader  strove  to  surpass  his  prede- 
cessors in  liveliness,  grace,  or  difficulty  of 
steps.  They  lifted  high  their  feet,  they 
leaped  in  the  air,  they  whirled  around,  diving 
their  heads  under  the  linked  hands.  Shriller 


Constantine  221 

and  shriller  sounded  the  primitive  flutes.  The 
players  puffed  out  their  cheeks  ;  they  bent 
low  and  rose  erect  again,  shaking  their  heads 
to  the  shrill  quavering  of  the  monotonous 
melody;  their  fingers  squirmed  upon  the  slim 
reeds  like  serpents.  The  strangers  joined 
the  dance,  and  showed  themselves  true  Greeks, 
adding  to  the  good-fellowship.  Not  one  of 
them  but  could  lift  the  gourd  of  wine  to  his 
lips  and  drain  it  off  without  missing  a  step. 
"Zeto!  Zeto!"  cried  the  shepherds  again 
and  again. 

After  more  than  half  an  hour  had  been 
consumed  in  this  innocent  merriment,  a 
gawky  boy  announced  that  the  feast  was 
ready.  Hereupon  the  koumbaros  begged  the 
rich  effendi  and  his  companions  to  honour 
the  spread  with  their  presence.  The  proces- 
sion was  again  formed,  and  marched  or  danced 
to  the  hut  where  the  bride's  party  was  assem- 
bled. There  the  Athenian  ladies  were  found 
comfortably  seated  under  a  huge  pine  tree, 
talking  with  the  shepherd-women  concerning 
their  life  and  their  curious  superstitions  and 
customs.  Near  by,  two  lambs  were  roasting 
on  wooden  spits,  over  a  fire  of  fragrant  wood. 


222  Constantine 

As  the  party  of  the  bridegroom  approached, 
the  bride,  with  all  her  friends,  came  forth. 
Some  seated  themselves  on  skins,  others 
remained  standing.  The  two  lambs  were 
lifted  from  the  fire  and  set  upright  on  the 
spits  against  a  tree.  The  koumbaros  carved, 
and  pieces  of  the  delicate  meat  were  distrib- 
uted. 

The  bride's  father  had  done  the  roasting, 
for  his  skill  at  preparing  lambs  a  la  palikari 
was  known  for  miles  around.  Four  and  one 
half  hours  he  devoted  to  the  operation,  and 
when  he  cried  "  ready  "  in  a  loud  voice,  one 
had  need  to  lift  the  spit  carefully  from  the 
fire  or  the  flesh  would  drop  from  the  bones. 
Pieces  of  delicious  Pheta  cheese  were  also 
passed  around,  as  well  as  wine  in  abundance, 
honey,  hard-boiled  eggs,  and  black  bread. 
Hearty  food,  perhaps;  but  does  not  the  Greek 
proverb  truly  say,  "  Hunger  is  the  best 
cook"? 

Many  were  the  toasts  drunk  to  the  bride- 
groom and  bride,  a  pretty  maiden  of  thirteen 
years.  Frequently  a  matron  would  lift  her 
cup  to  some  damsel  and  say,  "  Here 's  to 
yours,"  meaning,  "  May  you,  too,  be  married 


Constantine  223 

soon."  Then  the  girl  would  blush,  and  all  the 
company  would  laugh,  except  some  young 
man,  who  would  blush  too. 

While  the  festivities  were  in  progress,  a  tall 
youth  strode  into  the  midst,  leading  a  donkey 
by  the  bridle,  and  carrying  in  his  hands  two 
shepherd's  crooks  —  the  one  his  own,  the 
other  the  staff  of  a  very  old  man  seated  on 
the  animal's  back.  The  rider  was  a  queer 
figure.  His  face  was  wrinkled  like  the  sea, 
and  his  bird-like  hands  trembled  visibly, 
though  clasped  in  front  of  him.  He  wore  a 
great  cloak  of  white  wool,  whose  peaked  hood 
was  drawn  up  over  his  head. 

'•  Behold,"  shouted  the  younger  of  the  new- 
comers, triumphantly,  "  here  is  old  Grand- 
father Stamados.  I  have  brought  him  all  the 
way  from  Thebes." 

"What  luck!  what  luck!  "cried  a  dozen 
voices.  The  patriarch  was  lifted  tenderly 
from  his  donkey,  and  placed  on  a  pile  of  soft 
skins.  There  he  was  plied  with  wine  and  the 
daintiest  morsels  of  the  feast.  No  one  asked 
why  he  was  treated  with  so  great  considera- 
tion, nor  why  such  trouble  had  been  taken  to 
bring  him.  Does  not  every  one  know  that 


224  Constantine 

the  presence  of  an  old  man  at  a  wedding  feast 
assures  to  the  newly  wed  couple  years  equal 
to  his? 

The  wife  of  the  rich  effendi  from  Athens 
fed  Grandfather  Stamados  with  her  own 
white  hands,  and  herself  held  the  winecup  to 
his  withered  lips. 

"How  old  are  you,  Grandfather  Stamados?" 
she  asked  sweetly;  but  he  did  not  know. 

"Ninety,"  volunteered  several  of  the  shep- 
herd-women. 

"More,  more!  "  shouted  others.  "A  hun- 
dred at  least." 

"Bravo,  bravo,  Grandfather  Stamados!" 
said  the  great  lady,  patting  him  gently  on 
the  shoulder. 

But  the  young  man  from  Thebes  had  in 
the  mean  time  been  whispering  to  the  koum- 
baros.  The  koumbaros  had  whispered  to  an- 
other, and  soon  a  strange  story  had  spread 
among  the  simple  shepherds  and  their  fami- 
lies. The  merriment  ceased;  all  who  were 
sitting  rose  to  their  feet,  and  those  who  were 
wearing  hats  took  them  off.  Every  eye  was 
fixed  in  curiosity,  and  yet  in  great  respect, 
upon  the  effendi  and  his  wife. 


Constantine  225 

"  What  is  this?  "  asked  the  former  of  one  of 
his  attendants. 

"This  shepherd  comes  from  Thebes,"  was 
the  reply,  "and  he  says  that  the  king  is 
expected  there.  They  believe  that  he  is  with 
us." 

"  Zeto!  Zeto!"  broke  from  every  rustic 
throat.  "  Long  live  the  people's  friend;  long 
live  the  people's  king!  " 

"  My  children,"  said  Otho,  rising — for  it 
was  indeed  he  — "  I  beg  of  you  to  treat  me 
as  your  guest.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  and 
Queen  Amalie  have  enjoyed  your  society. 
May  you  always  be  as  happy  as  I  have  found 
you  to-day,  and  as  happy  as  you  have  made 
us.  For  this  palikari  and  his  beautiful  bride 
I  wish  a  hundred  years  of  health  and  peace. 
May  they  come  down  to  an  honourable  old 
age,  surrounded  by  fair  daughters  and  strong 
sons.  Kuria,"  turning  to  the  bride,  "  I  drink 
to  your  health." 

He  spoke  in  perfect  modern  Greek,  and 
was  understood  by  all.  None  were  able  to 
answer  at  length,  but  all  shouted,  "  Long  live 
the  king!"  with  unmistakable  earnestness,  and 
not  a  few  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 


226  Constantine 

"Who  says  'Long  live  the  king'?"  de- 
manded a  loud  voice,  and  a  tall  man  rushed 
in  among  the  rustics.  "  What  king?  I  am 
the  king  of  this  country." 

"It's  the  crazy  man!"  screamed  several 
throats,  and  the  shepherd-women  shrank  back 
in  fright.  The  new-comer's  face  was  covered 
with  hair,  like  an  animal's,  and  his  fustanellas 
were  torn  and  filthy.  His  locks  curled  about 
his  hatless  head,  and  hung  down  like  a  wom- 
an's over  his  shoulders. 

"Let  me  go,  let  me  go!  "  he  cried,  strug- 
gling desperately  in  the  hands  of  several 
shepherds  who  were  attempting  to  hold  him. 
"How  dare  you  lay  hands  on  the  king!  I 
will  roast  you  one  by  one  in  my  copper  bull. 
I  '11  order  you  thrown  from  the  Leucadian 
Rock.  I  '11  send  you  to  Crete,  and  tell  my 
brother  Minos  to  feed  you  to  the  Minotaur." 

"  Here  's  a  queer  mixture  of  rags  and  clas- 
sics," observed  Otho,  in  German,  to  the 
young  lieutenant.  "  He  speaks  good  Greek 
too." 

"Poor  man,  poor  man!"  said  Queen 
Amalie,  also  in  German. 

What  was  their  surprise  when  the  crazy  man, 


Constantine  227 

whose  unnaturally  sharp  ears  had  caught  the 
last  remark,  ceased  his  struggles,  and  ad- 
dressed himself  to  the  King  in  the  latter's 
native  tongue. 

"  Being  a  king  yourself,  you  must  know 
what  I  am  by  instinct.  I  come  to  the  wed- 
ding feast  like  Homer's  father.  I  am  a  king 
in  tatters  —  a  king  in  rags.  All  night  and  all 
day  I  wander  over  my  dominions.  I  sleep 
with  the  stars.  Are  you  ever  cold  —  very  cold, 
and  sometimes  hungry?  " 

Otho  and  his  queen  were  greatly  affected 
to  hear  their  native  language  spoken  so  per- 
fectly, and  under  such  circumstances.  Here 
was  evidently  a  bright  and  well-stored  mind 
in  ruins.  The  royal  couple  questioned  the 
shepherds  concerning  'the  unfortunate  man's 
history,  but  learned  nothing  that  would 
throw  any  light  on  his  family  or  antece- 
dents. About  two  years  ago  he  had  come  to 
a  shepherd-boy  and  said,  "  Water!  Water! " 
many  times.  The  boy  was  frightened,  but  gave 
the  water.  The  crazy  man  then  went  away, 
mumbling  to  himself,  but  had  appeared  from 
time  to  time  to  solitary  shepherds  and  at  the 
villages.  He  was  always  given  food  and 


228  Constantine 

water.  Strange  to  say,  the  dogs  did  not  at- 
tack him.  At  first  he  had  said  nothing  except 
"  Bread!  Bread!  "  or  "  Water!  Water!  "  But 
of  late  the  notion  that  he  was  a  king  had 
come  into  his  head,  and  he  had  been  very 
talkative.  Often  for  days  he  would  talk  in  a 
foreign  language,  and  at  other  times  he  used 
a  kind  of  Greek  unfamiliar  to  his  hearers,  and 
of  which  they  understood  only  now  and  then 
a  word. 

Queen  Amalie  was  moved  to  tears. 

"  He  must  be  taken  care  of,"  said  Otho,  de- 
cisively. "  It  is  a  shame  that  he  should  hun- 
ger and  be  exposed  to  the  elements.  Per- 
haps with  quiet  and  kind  treatment  his 
reason  will  return.  I  will  send  him  to  some 
monastery,  where  the  monks  can  care  for  him, 
and  I  will  also  have  a  physician  examine  him." 

"  Your  Majesty's  kind  heart  will  ever  speak 
in  kind  deeds,"  said  the  queen.  "  Why  not 
send  him  to  the  beautiful  monastery  of  Poros? 
The  monks  there  are  celebrated  for  their 
goodness.  It  is  the  loveliest  spot  on  the  earth. 
Perhaps  the  trickling  of  the  water,  the  grand 
view  of  the  sea,  and  the  grand  quiet  of  the 
mountain  woods  will  help  to  heal  his  troubled 


Constantine  229 

mind.  We  go  there  so  often,  we  shall  be  able 
to  see  him.  I  am  much  interested  in  the 
poor  man." 

The  king  patted  her  lovingly  on  the  cheek. 

"  You  are  always  interested  in  the  unfortu- 
nate," said  he.  "  To  Poros  he  shall  go." 


Chapter  XXV 

Twenty  years  after  King  Otho's  adventure 
with  the  crazy  man,  a  party  of  Athenians  were 
enjoying  a  picnic  by  the  spring  which  supplies 
the  Poros  Monastery  with  water.  They  had 
spread  their  table  on  a  platform  of  rock  that 
juts  out  from  the  side  of  the  mountain.  This 
platform  is  shaded  by  a  large  oak  tree,  and 
the  hill  above  is.  covered  thick  with  fragrant 
pines. 

The  spring  gushes  out  from  the  side  of  the 
mountain,  and  runs  away  in  a  tiny  stream 
that  tinkles  like  a  bell.  Its  water  is  clear  as 
air,  and  is  believed  by  the  Poriotes  to  possess 
almost  miraculous  properties. 

The  Athenians  had  come  to  roast  a  lamb, 
to  sing  and  dance,  and  to  deck  their  heads 
with  greenery  and  floral  wreaths;  for  it  was  the 
first  of  May.  The  younger  members  of  the 
party  were  wandering  below  in  the  monks' 
olive  grove,  or  above  among  the  pines.  A 
230 


Constantine  231 

fat  and  rather  coarse-looking  matron,  forty 
years  of  age  or  more,  sat  holding  a  child,  and 
gazing  pensively  at  the  sea.  The  mother  had 
magnificent  dark  eyes.  A  little  girl-servant 
was  arranging  the  lunch,  and  an  old  woman 
with  a  shrill  voice  was  scolding  her.  A  sword 
lay  across  one  end  of  the  table,  and  the  owner 
of  the  weapon,  a  cavalry  officer  in  undress 
uniform,  was  turning  the  lamb,  and  replying 
as  wittily  as  he  could  to  the  badinage  of  two 
friends  who  stood  near.  Occasionally  one  of 
the  party  would  break  into  song,  and  all  three 
would  execute  a  few  steps  of  a  Greek  dance. 

Meanwhile  a  man  came  slowly  down  the 
path  from  the  monastery,  mumbling  to  him- 
self. He  was  on  his  way  to  the  spring  to  get 
water,  and  carried  an  earthen  jug  upon  his 
back.  At  the  same  time  the  matron's  babe 
became  restless.  To  quiet  it,  she  rocked  the 
little  thing  to  and  fro  in  her  arms  and  sang  to 
it  a  song  of  childhood,  beginning: 

"  What  delight,  O,  what  delight, 
Since  you  come,  O  swallow." 

The  man  had  mounted  to  the  platform  of 
rock — had  passed  half  across  it  on  his  way  to 
the  spring.  Suddenly  he  stopped,  and  ceased 


23  2  Constantine 

his  mumbling.  A  moment  thus  he  stood 
motionless,  listening.  Then  the  water-jug 
dropped  to  the  earth  with  a  crash,  and  he 
advanced  to  where  the  matron  sat,  his  arms 
extended,  his  eyes  shining  with  intelligence. 

"Am  I  not  Constantine,"  he  said,  in  the 
old  voice,  "and  are  you  not  Aneza?" 

The  matron  uttered  a  series  of  piercing 
screams,  and  fainted  away.  She  was  soon 
surrounded  by  her  friends,  who  carried  the 
insensible  form  into  the  church. 

"  Poor  thing,"  they  said,  "  she  was  fright- 
ened by  the  crazy  man,  and  he  quite  harm- 
less too." 

Constantine  dropped  his  hands  slowly  to 
his  sides,  and  turned  back  towards  the  mon- 
astery. When  he  came  to  the  fragments  of 
the  broken  jug,  he  stood  looking  at  them  for 
a  long  time,  shaking  his  head. 

Aneza  never  went  to  Poros  again. 


PRINTED  BY  R.  R.  DONNELLEY 
&  SONS  CO.  AT  THE  LAKESIDE 
PRESS,  CHICAGO,  FOR  WAY  AND 
WILLIAMS,  MDCCCXCVII 


074 


V 


CONSTANTINE 

BY 

GEORGE  MORTON 


CHICAGO 
MDCCCXCVII- 


